Secrets Uncovered
by Supervolleyball12
Summary: It has been three years since the Giant War, and one week since the Avengers battled in New York City. The demigods thought they got away with fighting in the battle unnoticed. The Avengers thought they were the only ones defending Manhattan. That is, until one picture surfaces. Because the Mist can't catch everything.
1. Chapter 1

Steve was walking down the busy sidewalks of Manhattan. The streets of the city were pulsing with life, and Steve was pleased to see the resilient New Yorkers already bouncing back from the Chitauri's attack only last week. Whole buildings stood in disrepair; in some places only piles of rubble remained. Scorch marks scarred the roads, and every few blocks stood makeshift memorials to those who lost their lives. Steve remembered how an unnatural stillness had seemed to blanket the wreckage as the smoke cleared that day. A somber and quiet sense of finality had settled over Manhattan and it had unnerved Steve. He had become so accustomed to the city that never sleeps that he was relieved when it began to pick itself up again.

Over the past week, the media had been relentless. Opinions on the Avengers had varied, but everyone wanted an interview. The constant badgering and attention exhausted Steve, so when he saw a news crew stationed in front of a condemned building a little ways before him, he ducked into the first alley he came across. Steve didn't care what news station it was, or whether they supported him or not. He did not feel like talking today. Or ever. The alley led to a residential neighborhood hit hard by the attack. An explosion had blown a crater in the road and yellow police tape marking buildings in dangerous conditions fluttered in the slight breeze. A heavy silence lay over the evacuated street. Steve was the only person on the street…except for one lone figure.

The figure stood in front of what used to be an apartment complex. It now lay in a heap of twisted metal and broken brick. As Steve drew closer, the person became clearer. The stranger appeared to be a young man, standing easily above six feet, dressed in a pair of jeans and a casual sweatshirt. He was tan, with inky black hair. There was a contemplative air about him as he looked at the wreckage.

"Did you live here?" Steve asked as he came to stand next to the man. The stranger jumped at Steve's voice and jerked out of his reverie. His startling green eyes gave Steve a quick once-over.

"I'm sorry I startled you."

"Oh, um… it's fine. I did used to live here, but I moved when I was twelve." The stranger said. Up close, Steve could see that he couldn't be more than twenty years old.

"Steve Rogers." The Avenger said, holding out his hand. The stranger took it, surprising Steve with his strong grip.

"Percy Jackson."

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here?" Steve questioned. Percy took his time before answering.

"I've always wanted to blow this building up. It holds a lot of memories. When I heard that this neighborhood got wrecked, I had to come by and make sure the job was done well enough." Steve couldn't tell of the boy was joking or not. Percy must have noticed Steve's expression because he shot him a lopsided grin.

"Eddie is gonna be so mad." Percy continued, chuckling.

"Eddie?"

"The building Super." Percy shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans. "I don't think his insurance covers alien attacks."

Steve laughed a little at this. He still wasn't sure what to make of this Jackson kid. They stood in comfortable silence for a little while. While Percy continued to gaze at the wreckage, Steve observed him out of the corner of his eye. The boy's stance was relaxed, and yet, there was a tenseness that Steve didn't think a teenager should possess. His face was devoid of emotion. Percy looked every part of the average teenager, but Steve couldn't help but be reminded of Clint or Natasha.

"You're Captain America, aren't you?" Percy said, turning to face Steve. Steve Rogers, indeed Captain America, was pulled from his thoughts, startled at being recognized.

"Yes, I am. How did you know?" Steve asked, but Percy ignored the question.

"Well, I guess I should thank you then, for protecting my city." The boy stuck his hand out once more for Steve to shake and then excused himself, saying he had a meeting at the Empire State Building.

"Wouldn't want to be later than I already am, right?" He said with another crooked grin. Steve just nodded. "See ya around, Cap." Percy parted with a cheery wave, and disappeared down a side street. Steve stood still for a minute more, slightly bewildered by the brief encounter he had just experienced. It had seemed like Percy was, at one moment, serious and thoughtful, and at the next, without a care in the world.

Steve shook his head slowly and decided it was time to head back to Stark's tower.

Percy knew he was going to be late. The opportunity to internally gloat on the fate of his old apartment was too irresistible to pass up though. And then there had been his short conversation with Captain America, which further delayed him.

The attack on Manhattan was still fresh in his memory, and to be honest, Percy didn't know how he felt about the Avengers. Percy had been at Camp Half-Blood, teaching a sword fighting class when a little Aphrodite girl ran up, demanding that Percy meet Chiron at the Big House NOW. When he had bounded up the porch steps, out of breathe from his sprint, he found a group of senior campers already gathered there. Chiron had received a message from an old Hermes camper working for some government agency. New York was being attacked.

Less than half an hour later ten senior campers were scattered throughout the streets of Manhattan, armor hidden under regular clothes. The demigods worked in the shadows, keeping the aliens contained, protecting civilians, and clearing the streets. They were given a few questioning looks, but the Avengers stole the limelight. In that regard, Percy supposed he should be grateful. The campers were able to do their part, and their secret was still safe. And, according to the ex-Hermes camper who now worked as a low-level agent for SHIELD, the agency was still ignorant of the demigods' involvement.

Percy had expected to find himself content with the way the events had played out, yet he found himself oddly dissatisfied. Working behind the scenes was tiring. It bothered Percy that he had sacrificed so much for the sake of the world and that humanity was still blissfully unaware. The son of Poseidon quickly cut off that line of thinking though. Giving up the three years and counting of relative peace he had acquired since the Giant War for fifteen minutes of fame was not worth it. Percy had Annabeth and that was enough.

Percy darted into the lobby of the Empire State Building. He fought his way through the crowded room, earning several nasty looks from disgruntled tourists. The security guard behind the desk didn't look up at him as he slapped his hands on the wood.

"I need to go up to the 600th floor." Percy said in between heaving breaths. He had run the last several blocks to make up for time.

"No such floor, kid." The guard flipped the page of his book lazily.

"Oh, c'mon man. We do this every time!"

"Do I know you?" Percy growled under his breath. He did not have the patience for this right now. The glass of water sitting on the desk began to shake slightly. Noticing the water, the guard finally looked up at Percy. He narrowed his eyes.

"Actually, now that I think about it you do look slightly familiar." Percy just held out his hand and the guard rolled his eyes. "What fun are you?" He said, and plopped the key into Percy's waiting palm.

Without another word Percy hurried into the elevator and slid the key into the correct slot. His foot tapped as the elevator rose slowly. The music was as terrible as always. Percy found it somewhat comforting though. Regardless of that fact that his entire life had changed, the atrociousness of the music hadn't. The doors of the elevator opened at last, and Percy took a moment to admire Olympus. Annabeth really had done a spectacular job. Then the moment passed and Percy was once again running through the streets toward the Olympian throne room.

He slid the elaborate doors open and attempted to slip into the throne room unnoticed. No such luck. Every eye was fixed on him as he strode quickly to take his place next to Annabeth. In the back of his head, Percy noted that Annabeth's disapproving glare matched her mother's exactly. However, he felt that he shouldn't point that out, for his own health. Percy waved sheepishly.

"Perseus Jackson, I must thank you for finally joining us." Zeus boomed from his throne. Percy blushed. Athena tsked and Apollo gave him a subtle thumb up.

"Sorry." He muttered.

"So, what were we called here for?" Annabeth asked as she took Percy's hand in hers. Zeus opened his mouth to speak, but it was Hermes who beat him to it.

"We have news, news of possible complications." Around the throne room the gods and goddesses, most of whom were present, shifted uncomfortably. A cold ball of dread formed in Percy's gut. He tightened his grip on Annabeth's hand.

"What kind of complications?"

Tony was simultaneously fiddling with some spare parts and stuffing his mouth with food when Steve walked into the personal kitchen at Stark tower. Tony glanced up from his tinkering briefly.

"How was your walk, Cap?" He asked. Steve eyed the food laid out in front of Tony with distaste.

"Really, Tony, pizza and wine, and isn't it a little early to be drinking?" He said. Tony scoffed.

"1. Don't judge, I get cravings. 2. It is never too early to drink. You're just sore because you can't get drunk." The billionaire said, and took a long swig from the wine bottle to emphasize his point. Steve was about to retaliate, when Bruce Banner walked in, holding a newspaper.

"Tony, its ten a.m. isn't that a little early to be drinking?" Bruce said. Tony threw his hands in the air.

"My God, would everyone give a rest today!" He cried in exasperation. Bruce decided to change the subject.

"Have a look at this." The doctor said, throwing the newspaper down on the kitchen counter with a satisfying thud. Steve and Tony leaned in to look at the front page. The paper was dated from this morning. A single headline graced the front page. The picture under it looked like a movie poster. A lone figure dominated the scene. It looked male, but only his back was visible. He was crouched in a defensive stance, and in one hand, he held a sword. The figure was facing off three of the Chitauri; in the background, the smoking streets of New York were visible.

"What is this?" Tony asked, shocked.

Bruce only shook his head.

"What kind of complications?" Percy repeated, his voice low and tense. He watched as Hermes rose from his throne, shrinking down to human height as he did so. Wordlessly, he handed Percy a newspaper. With growing dread, he took in the picture. He felt slightly nauseous. Even with only the figure's back visible, Percy could recognize himself. Turning his attention to the headline, he slowly puzzled the words out.

"What is this?" He asked when the meaning became clear.

Annabeth only shook her head.

In large bold letters the headline read: **New York's Unsung Hero?**

**Hey, guys. So, this is my first crossover and I would really appreciate some reviews on how it looks so far. It starts out kind of slow, but I need to build the background up a bit first. Any comment would be great! Review! Thanks**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, here it is! Chapter 2, enjoy.**

The media could not get enough of the story of New York City's "Unsung Hero", despite the fact that there really was no story to be told.

* * *

><p>The newswoman was pretty. She was actually more than pretty, quite gorgeous, in fact. Normally, Eddie would be more focused on the way her mouth moved, but today he was actually listening to the words coming out of it. It was a pretty interesting story after all.<p>

"The Swordsman, as many have come to call him, has yet to be identified." She was saying. "The picture, while telling us so much, reveals very little about the man nobody knew was there. We have spoken to several witnesses, and each gave us a different story. One woman claimed a boy with his hood up was fighting the alien with a hockey stick. Another witness claimed it was a yardstick, while yet another said he saw Captain America come to the rescue, instead if the man in the picture. All that is known for sure is his hair color, general height, and that the photo shows a bronze sword. To add to the mystery of the Swordsman, the photographer responsible for the photo does not even remember taking the picture. Could it all be a hoax?"

The pretty newswoman continued her story as Eddie took a swig from his beer can. He had been following the story ever since it broke- two days ago. Something about it bothered him. Eddie felt as if he should know something about it, but he couldn't put his finger to it. He took another drink, willing the mystery to go away. Eddie had bigger problems. After all, his insurance on the apartment building did not cover alien attacks.

* * *

><p>Tony's eyes flicked from one computer screen to the next. Nothing! There was nothing. The only proof that the so called Swordsman ever existed was the picture plastered on every newspaper and shown on every website in the country. It was a national mystery the whole country was caught up in. Clint Barton lay sprawled out over a sofa in the room, carelessly flicking through TV channels.<p>

"It's not a hoax." The archer said, as if sensing Tony's frustration. "SHIELD examined the original photo and it's legit." Tony ignored him in favor of skimming over another article on the internet, but it was just more speculation. Clint stopped his channel surfing on a news station playing yet more coverage on the mysterious Swordsman. A pudgy man stood in front of the now infamous picture.

"—and where is this Unsung Hero now—" Clint twisted on the sofa to face Tony.

"That, Stark, is an excellent question. Where is this wonderful "Unsung Hero"?" He asked, making air quotes with his fingers. Tony spared him a withering look.

"Barton, why are you here again?"

* * *

><p>The "Unsung Hero" was currently sprinting down the sidewalk. He was late. When was Percy ever <em>not<em> late? He dashed into a large square building. The young man spared a quick hello and a wave to the shy receptionist sitting at the front desk. The girl blushed and waved back. Percy passed several basketball courts, a workout center and a yoga class before running into the men's locker room. Exactly 45 seconds later he was breezing out of the locker room and entering the pool house. Percy relaxed as the smell of chlorine filled his nose. Spread out in little clumps of people was the summer swim team, whom Percy co-coached.

"Alright, everybody huddle up." He called; his voice reverberated off of the pool water. Quiet chatter filled the room as the group of swimmers formed a loose circle around Percy. Every eye was on him, waiting for him to speak.

"Sorry, I'm late, I—"

"We're not really surprised, Coach." One of his swimmers butted in.

"Yeah, you're late for every practice." Another piped up. Percy scowled theatrically at them.

"OK, we get it. I have an issue with being on time…Moving ON. I wanted to talk to you guys a bit before we get back to swimming." Percy said. The way they were looking at him, ready to follow his every word, reminded him of the demigods he had led into battle before. He couldn't help but think in the back of his head that these conditions were infinitely better.

"This is the first time I've seen any of you since the attack. And it's really good that all of you are here. Right now, it is so important that you keep up with this team. I know all lot of you may have lost your homes, or a family member, but the only way to move and recover is to keep working. Sitting and moping isn't going to fix anything right?" He looked each of them in the eye. They were all solemn, with the exception of one of the older swimmers in the back.

"That's great and all, but Coach, but you should stick to the pep talks. I can't take you seriously when you're trying to be serious." The swimmer said, grinning. The tension broke as everyone laughed. Percy held his hands up, conceding to the swimmer.

"Ben has a point. How's this for a pep talk. We have one week until our first competition. So let's get in that water and practice so we can kick some butt! Alright?" The team let out a woop, and then a groan as Percy gleefully announced ten warm up laps.

* * *

><p>Leo sat at the Hephaestus table, furiously erasing the marks he had made on a sheaf blueprint paper. He gritted his teeth and focused harder to ignore the calculations swirling around the page. He had been trying to create his own version of the arc reactor for weeks and was still no closer to a break through now, than he was when he started. <em>How did Tony Stark do this?<em>

He was absently aware that Chiron was making the morning announcements, but he tuned them out. If it weren't for Piper and Jason, he would still be in his cabin, working. Leo started when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked up to see Harley lean in and confide to the mechanic that his hair was on fire. Leo bashfully patted the flames out, cheeks redder than the brief fire on his head. He was soon reabsorbed in his calculations but quickly interrupted again when a washer hit his forehead. Blinking owlishly, Leo looked up once again, this time a little irritated, to see Nyssa glaring at him from down the table.

"Pay attention." She hissed and the son of Hephaestus shrunk a little under her gaze. Leo sighed and slowly rolled up the blueprint. He began listening just in time to hear Chiron finish saying that leaving fake spiders hidden in the Athena cabin would not be tolerated. The old mentor sent a pointed look in the Stolls' direction and they began whistling innocently. A few of the Athena campers appeared traumatized.

"Now," The centaur said, "I'm afraid I have some serious news." Leo could almost hear the campers spirits drop. Really, it sounded like little thuds on the floor. He unconsciously pulled screwdriver out of his tool belt.

"As most of you know, a select few of our most experienced campers were sent to discreetly aid the Avengers in defending New York." Leo nodded. He had been one of them. "We took great lengths to ensure our involvement remain a secret. We thought we were successful. However, two days ago, a photo of Percy Jackson fighting the Chitauri was made public. Thankfully, his identity is still safe, but suspicions have been raised. Therefore, the camp is going on lockdown—" A chorus of groans went up, which Chiron tried to wave off.

"Why does Prissy screw everything up?" An Ares camper called.

"Shut your trap, Randy!" An Apollo camper shouted. Randy stood, mouth open to retort, but Chiron pounded his hoof on the ground. Silence reigned in the mess hall. Chiron did not speak for several moments as he let tempers cool.

"As I was saying, the camp will go on lockdown _temporarily._" Chiron continued. "This will only be for a few days. And then we will proceed with caution. Do not worry. This will blow over quickly." The centaur said soothingly. "Now, I believe you have morning activities to attend. Dismissed!"

A great clatter rose in the mess hall as nearly two hundred campers pushed back their benches eagerly. Leo remained seated. He didn't feel like fighting the crowds, and had to meet Jason anyway. Leo soon spotted the Roman demigod making his way slowly towards the Hephaestus table. Jason's progress was smooth and Leo was pleased to see his gait held hardly any limp.

"Ready, Sparky?" Leo asked as he swung his leg over the bench and stood. Jason grinned, and sparks flickered over his shoulders.

"You bet, Bob the Builder." Leo snorted.

"That's a new one." The two waved at Piper, who was leading the Aphrodite cabin off to the archery range, and set off at a leisurely pace towards Bunker 9.

"What can I say; I get more creative every day."Jason teased. It was a beautiful summer day. Of course, it was always beautiful at Camp Half-Blood. The final renovations to camp had been completed just last summer, and now, Leo couldn't imagine it any other way.

Nico and Reyna had arrived at the camp just in time to halt the fighting between the Romans and the Greeks. The Athena Parthenos now stood on the beach, uniting the camps, and reminding Leo of a scarier, Greek-er, version of the Statue of Liberty. A Roman bunk house was nestled in the woods, a little ways away from the cabins. Fifteen Romans were always stationed there, as there were fifteen Greeks stationed in a cabin at Camp Jupiter, to promote unity.

After a short walk in comfortable silence, Jason and Leo arrived at Bunker 9. Leo smiled as he stepped inside. The familiar smell of engine grease and motor oil made him feel safe. Jason seated himself in a high-backed chair and began rolling his pants leg up. Leo turned his back to him as he gathered his tools and his thoughts. After three years the boy thought he would become accustomed to these appointments, but he hated every one of them. When he turned back to face Jason, the son of Jupiter had already removed his prosthetic leg and was massaging the remaining stump just under the knee. Leo fought back the memory of Jason's screams as the bones in his leg were crushed beyond repair by one of the Giants. Jason either ignored the pained look on Leo's face, or didn't notice it.

"Ok, this is the newest model I've come up with." Leo said, shoving the memories aside, and handing Jason the new fake leg. "I only made some minor changes, and the way you attach it is more efficient." Jason watched intently as Leo demonstrated. "That's not too tight, is it?"

"No, it fits as well as the last one. I think I'm done growing." Jason said and stood, testing his weight hesitantly on the new leg. Leo forced out a laugh.

"Ah, poor Superman, cursed to be forever two inches shorter than Percy." Jason wrinkled his nose and muttered something about Percy only being an inch and a half taller than him.

"Walk around a bit." Leo ordered. "I need to rework the calibration still." Jason mockingly saluted and began to pace up and down the floor. After ten more minutes of tinkering and adjusting on Leo's part, the leg was pronounced satisfactory.

"Ya know… this thing is incredible." Jason spoke up as they walked back towards camp. His limp was all but gone. "I bet if you patented this you would be loaded."

* * *

><p>SHIELD Agent Maria Hill had a headache. She didn't know how many more times she would have to say that SHIELD had no idea who the Swordsman was before the press actually understood <em>that SHIELD had no idea who the Swordsman was.<em>

"Agent Hill, is the mysterious Swordsman an undercover agent for SHIELD, perhaps, something as an understudy for the Avengers?" Another obnoxious reporter asked. Agent Hill fought to keep her cool and resisted the urge to push aside the podium she was standing behind and throttle the man.

"I have said this before, and I will repeat it now." Hill said slowly, as if speaking to toddlers. "The Swordsman was not under the command of SHIELD, nor does the agency know his identity. However, I assure you, we are doing everything we can to uncover who this man is." The pudgy reporter looked like someone had kicked his puppy.

"Yes, but does SHIELD know—" He began again. Hill abruptly stepped back from the podium.

"No further questions."

"But—"

"No. Further. Questions."

* * *

><p>Natasha ghosted silently through the hall in Stark Tower, following the sounds of her teammates' voices. She found them in a spacious living room. The décor was extravagant, as were all of Tony's things. Clint, Steve and Bruce lay sprawled out over several plush, white couches. Well, Clint and Bruce were sprawled over the couches. Steve sat properly in his chair, eyeing Clint's boots on the glass coffee table with disapproval. Bruce nursed a cup of tea; Clint was spinning an arrow deftly through his fingers.<p>

"What if he was just this random guy who had a cosplay sword in his dresser and decided to go be a hero." Clint was suggesting. Bruce shook his head thoughtfully.

"No, his stance and grip on the sword looked professional. He has had training."

Clint shifted into a more upright position.

"How do you know what a professional fencing stance looks like?" He demanded.

"How do _you_ know what a professional fencing stance looks like?" Bruce fired back.

"THOR!" Steve cried, causing the two arguing men to jump.

"What about him?" Clint asked warily. Steve stood in his excitement.

"What if the man was an Asgardian. They still fight with medieval weapons, right? Thor would know who he was." Natasha had to stifle a laugh at Steve's hopeful expression. Clint looked intrigued, but Banner was slowly shaking his head.

"I don't think he was an Asgardian. Remember, he wasn't wearing armor. Besides, you're right. If another Asgardian came to fight on Earth, Thor would know. And he would tell us. We sort of needed all the help we could get." The Captain visibly deflated and sat back down.

"Why do always have to be such a buzzkill?" Clint asked.

"Where is Tony?" Natasha cut in before another argument could break out. Steve and Bruce jumped violently in surprise. Clint didn't move an inch. Natasha supposed he was far too used to her making stealthy entrances. She arranged herself comfortable in a cushy chair. "Stark would be all over this conversation." Agent Barton chuckled.

"You're right." Steve said and Natasha raised an eyebrow as if to say_ of course_. "He would be all over this conversation. It's almost becoming an unhealthy obsession. I sent him on a walk to clear his thoughts."

"And you're not obsessed with the Swordsman?" She asked. The men shook their heads.

"No, why would you think that?" Clint said. Natasha gave him a sly grin.

"Because we're having this conversation right now."

"Stop being right, Romanoff."

* * *

><p>Hazel walked into the <em>principia<em> in search of Frank. The sun was just beginning its descent in the sky and the slanted rays shone through the velvet curtains thickly, giving the great room a warm feeling. Her boots clomped noisily across the polished marble floors. Reyna sat at the table in the middle of the room. She was hunched over some scroll and barely glanced up when Hazel approached. Aurum and Argentum thumped their tails happily and she bent down to pat each of them gently.

"Hello Reyna, have you seen Frank?" Hazel asked. She fished around in the bowl of jellybeans and brought out a blue one, thinking of Percy as she did so. Reyna replied by simply pointing towards the ceiling. There, scuttling across the gold mosaic of the _principia_ was a small lizard.

"Frank?" Hazel called. Reyna leaned back from her work and stretched.

"He is _supposed_ to be helping me go through these records. But apparently, becoming one with his inner reptile is more important." She said angrily, brandishing a heavy piece of parchment. The lizard stopped its moving and transformed into a large eagle, which flew down and became Hazel's boyfriend.

"That was a smooth landing." Hazel congratulated. Frank beamed and plucked a feather off of his purple Camp Jupiter shirt.

"I've been practicing." He announced proudly. Reyna rolled her eyes.  
>"I got a message from Camp Half-Blood today." She said, changing the subject. "Percy got himself into trouble again." Frank frowned thoughtfully.<p>

"Why am I not surprised?"

* * *

><p>Tony grumbled as he walked down some busy New York sidewalk. Steve thought he was obsessed. No he wasn't, just interested. He didn't like not knowing things. <em>Who does Rogers think he is? <em>Tony thought._ Kicking me out of my own tower._ The billionaire looked around. He wasn't even really sure where he was. Too engulfed in his own thoughts, Tony hadn't paid attention to where his feet were carrying him. The street he was on was trashed. The cleaning crews hadn't even reached it yet. Suddenly Tony recognized where he was. He had attempted to drive down the road yesterday, but quickly gave that up and settled for driving past it. The road's conditions were that bad.

Maybe Tony was a little obsessed. This was the road the infamous photo was taken on.

Tony shrugged. Pulling out the picture, he estimated where the Swordsman had stood on the road. Amusing himself, he dropped into a similar position. He tried to imagine what it would be like to face down three of the Chitauri with only a sword, and found himself extremely grateful for his suits. Tony didn't know why the photo and the Swordsman fascinated him so much. Perhaps, he simply disliked mysteries. Perhaps it was because others could not solve it, so natural he had to try. And he was sure he _could_ solve it. There was just something missing. One little piece of the puzzle yet unconsidered and that piece would lead him to a breakthrough. A niggling little feeling in the back of his head told him he was so close, he just had to look around. Tony did look around. He took in the street, every detail, from the wilted flower petals strewn across the pavement, to shattered glass and upturned tables, to the cracked camera mounted on a crushed police car.

Tony did a double take. Striding purposefully over to the car, he inspected the little camera. Excitement started to build up but he tamped it down, not wanting to get his hopes up for nothing. Compared to the state of the car, the camera was in mint condition. But that wasn't saying much. The back half of the police cruiser was completely flat. The front half had fared a little better, but it looked like someone had fallen on the windshield. Tony carefully removed the camera from the car and held it reverently. Somehow he knew this held the answer to his question. He just had to pray that it wasn't broken.

How had he not thought of this before?

* * *

><p>Steve growled under his breath as the spaghetti once again slipped off of his fork. Determined to succeed this time, Captain America spun his fork around the pasta with extra concentration. If he bothered to look up he would see the other Avengers doubled up in silent laughter. Except Tony, but who knows where he was. The genius playboy billionaire philanthropist hadn't returned from his walk yet. The door to the kitchen burst open just as Steve completed the last rotation of his fork. Startled, he jumped and the pasta once again slid back onto his plate. Steve looked up, fully prepared to berate whoever had interrupted him. It was Tony.<p>

"Well, well, well, look who it is. It's nice of you to join us, Stark." Clint called before Steve could voice a word. Tony ignored him. In fact, he ignored all of them. The other Avengers watched in shock as Tony strode through the kitchen and disappeared through another door, clutching an indiscernable object in his hand. The door swing shut behind him.

Bruce turned back to his dinner.

"I don't think I even want to know." The doctor said. Clint snorted.

"Steve, you might have better luck if you just start eating it with your hands." Natasha commented dryly.

* * *

><p>Tony leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes tiredly with the heel of his hands. His wristwatch told him that it was nearly three in the morning. The video, to his delight, was salvageable. However, it had taken him hours to get it to a watchable quality. Tony stifled a yawn and downed the last of his coffee. He'd had more cups than he liked to admit.<p>

His lab was mostly dark. The only light was the weak artificial glow being emitted from the computer screens and Tony's own chest. He watched through bleary eyes as the progress bar of the last screening filled agonizingly slowly. Before he knew it, his heavy eyelids were drooping shut and Tony was drifting off to sleep.

"Progress complete."

Tony jerked awake in his chair, JARVIS' voice seemed to boom in the early morning silence.

"I'm sorry to wake you, sir." Tony noticed the video, now ready to be played, and no longer felt tired.

"Don't be. What time is it?" He asked. JARVIS informed him that it was four in the morning. Tony had slept for an hour. Tony felt his excitement building. He pressed play and hoped that this wouldn't be a dud.

The video showed nothing at first, simply empty streets. But that soon changed. Tony's eyes widened as he watched. All too quickly the video ended.

Tony sat back in his chair, at a loss for words.

"JARVIS, please wake the team. They need to see this."

**There it is! Ok, I'll try to keep this short but I want to thank every one of those lovely people who reviewed the last chapter. Thank you so much! They absolutely made my day. Also, for anyone actually reading this… I'm an aspiring author and I decided to start posting on this site to better my writing. So I cherish every review I get (and I'm not afraid of a little constructive criticism) because those reviews help me get better, and give you a more awesome chapter. So, obviously, keep them coming! One more thing, my chapters won't normally change POVs as often as this one did. I just wanted to sort of touch base with all the characters, and let you know what they're up to. The next chapter will hopefully be up soon. (If my physics class doesn't kill me first) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Viola! Chapter 3!**

Everything was dark. Dark, dark, dark. The world was an empty black void that stretched eternally into nothingness. Somehow, the darkness was heavy. It lay like a thick, stifling blanket over Annabeth. Or maybe it was just the air. The air around her in the darkness was so humid she felt like she was choking on it. Slimy tendrils of panic began creeping up her throat as she realized she was blind, but Annabeth pushed it down. All around her she could hear the sounds of hell. Something hissed in her ear and Annabeth spun wildly towards it, trying to pinpoint the sound in the dark nothingness. She could hear gritty scales scraping over rocks and leathery wings beating and suddenly the air was rent with inhuman screaming. A heavy, reeking _thing_ collided with her, sending her sprawling across jagged stones that she couldn't see. White hot pain flared up and down her side.

"Percy!" She screamed, succumbing to panic. "Help!" Something chuckled darkly in her ear.

"Percy!" Nothing, there was no reply. Annabeth was alone. "PERCY!"

Annabeth awoke in a cold sweat. The sheets of her bed lay tangled around her legs. Her heart was pounding, and her breath heaved raggedly in her ears. Twisting to reach her nightstand, Annabeth flipped on a lamp. The soothing yellow light pushed back the darkness and reminded her that she could still see. Annabeth took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. But just waking up safely in her room in the flat she shared with Piper was not enough. The time: four a.m., glared at her from the digital clock on her nightstand. Annabeth dialed a phone number with shaking fingers. It rang, and rang.

It almost seemed like the call would go unanswered; which probably would have sent Annabeth into a full blown panic attack, but on the tenth ring, someone finally picked up.

"Annabeth?" Percy's voice was thick with sleep and Annabeth almost let out a sob of relief at the sound of it. "Annabeth, wha's goin on?" She could picture him sitting up from his drool covered pillow, rubbing the sleep put of his eyes with one hand.

"Percy." Annabeth said, hating how weak her voice sounded.

"Annabeth, what's wrong?" The sleep was long gone from Percy's voice now, it was sharp and alert. Annabeth took a calming breath.

"I- I had a nightmare… from Tartarus, and I needed to talk to you." She said.

"What happened?" Concern colored his tone.

"I was blind again. And you- you weren't there. You left me, I—"

"Hey, hey, you know I would never leave you. Annabeth, I would never leave you." Percy cut in. "Willingly." He amended and Annabeth couldn't keep a chuckle from escaping.

"Piper is still stuck at camp, isn't she? Do you want me to come over?" Percy asked. Annabeth scoffed, she was already feeling better. Just talking to Percy made her feel more secure.

"I'm no damsel in distress, Seaweed Brain. Believe what you want, but I'm not _that _dependent on you." Annabeth said teasingly.

"That's my Wise Girl." He laughed. Annabeth smiled into the phone, her heartbeat once again at normal speeds.

"I'll let you get back to your precious sleep, Percy. I'm fine now." She said.

"Alright." There was a pause, during which Annabeth almost thought that her boyfriend had hung up. "Annabeth?"

"Still here."

"I love you."

"I know." She could hear Percy spluttering on the other end of the line. Annabeth laughed.

"I love you too." She said, and hung up the phone.

* * *

><p>Percy was not the only one whose sleep was being interrupted at four in the morning. When the Director of SHIELD was awoken by the shrill beeping of his phone, he very nearly silenced it in favor of going back to sleep. But the caller ID said it was Steve, and Fury knew that the Captain could hardly work a cell, so the odds of him calling the Director at four a.m. for anything less than an emergency were slim. Reluctantly, Fury answered the call.<p>

"What do you want, Rogers." He growled. Steve thankfully got straight to the point.

"Sir, you need to come to Stark Tower now. Tony made a breakthrough on the Swordsman case and you are going to want to see this." The Director rose swiftly out of bed.

"I'll be there in ten."

Ten minutes and thirty seconds later, Director Fury stalked into one of Tony's conference rooms. It wasn't the normal conference room, but the normal conference room had been blown up. This room was sleek in design, with three white walls and the fourth made entirely of a plasma screen. The room was plastered in newspaper articles about the Swordsman. The official report typed up by SHIELD lay on the table, and an enlarged copy of the infamous photo was taped to the wall opposite of the screen. If anything, the décor only served to highlight Tony's obsession with the mystery.

Every Avenger, with the exception of Thor, was seated in the room. Tony looked up as Fury entered. He gestured airily to his watch.

"You're thirty seconds late." Stark announced. Fury ignored the comment, preferring to get straight to the reason he had been called to the tower at this ungodly hour.

"You found something?" Immediately Tony's demeanor changed; he adopted a more serious expression.

"Sir, we might be dealing with something bigger than we thought." Steve said solemnly. Bruce looked lost in thought.

"JARVIS, play the video." Tony said. The lights dimmed slightly in response and the video began to play. At first there was only what appeared to be the average New York Street.

"I got this camera off of a police car." Tony said. The quality was grainy, but in color. There was no sound.

On the screen, people began running. The camera shuddered slightly as something off-screen exploded.

"Ok, now we fast-forward a few minutes… and…Here!" Fury could see several of the Chitauri attacking civilians. A lone police officer attempted to fight them off until he was bodily picked up and thrown to the ground. The warrior towered over him, about to strike; the officer struggled to stand. Suddenly, a blurry figure darted into the camera's view and tackled the alien. The two rolled away and the officer took the opportunity to crawl to safety. The rescuer leaped to his feet, and Fury was able to recognize the Swordsman. The Chitauri warrior was quick to follow. It swung its' staff at the Swordsman's head. With incredible speed, the man ducked and returned with a strike of his own. After a brief engagement, the alien had been disposed of.

The Swordsman turned, dropping into a defensive stance as three more aliens approached him. Fury realized this was the moment at which the picture was taken. The fight against these three lasted only a few minutes. Fury watched with growing astonishment as the man ducked and whirled and slashed with incredible skill. Suddenly, another explosion rocked the streets. When the dust settled, the remaining warrior had backed the man into corner. He was clutching his side, as if in pain and his weapon was nowhere to be seen. Fury wondered darkly if the reason no one could find the Swordsman was because he had been killed.

Fury turned to Stark, intent on asking him why he had been called to the tower just to watch the man die. Tony saw his expression.

"Just wait." He said. Fury turned back to the screen. It showed the Chitauri raising it weapon in the form of a staff, the blow was inevitable. What happened next shocked the Director (that the director was surprised was a small miracle in itself).

The boy raised his arm, hand held in a fist, and a wall of water appeared on screen. It twisted and spun, as if alive. With a flick of the Swordsman's wrist the water engulfed the Chitauri warrior and threw him back. The alien landed on the hood of the car, inches from the camera. Cracks spread over the windshield and the camera footage flickered dangerously. The Director leaned in closer to the screen, as if that would help him absorb every detail. As the body rolled limply off the hood of the car, the pulsing wall of water seemed to remember its' relationship with gravity and fell, sloshing over the road. The Swordsman stood in the background. His weapon was once again in his hand. The video flickered again and held out long enough for Fury to see another, thinner figure run up to the Swordsman, a thin sword clutched in their hand. The two exchanged words then turned as one and ran off. The screen went dark. Fury turned back to face the team.

"This changes some things. I want him found."

* * *

><p>Nico thought he should be used to be being used as his father's errand boy by now. After all, he had held the prestigious position for nearly five years. The son of Hades recalled the brief conversation he had just held with his father.<p>

"-and Charon is _still_ bothering me about a pay raise." Hades was ranting in his throne room. Nico nodded his head absently, he didn't really care. "Why, just yesterday he threatened me with a strike. He wouldn't dare!" The teenager sighed inwardly; when Hades really got going, these tirades were endless. "If I weren't so busy dealing with all those New York deaths, I would go up there right now and tell him to shut up and get to work—wait!" The god of the underworld stood suddenly. Nico jerked out of his daydreams. "You do it!"

"Um, what?"

"I'm busy. Nico, go tell Charon to shut his mouth and get back to work." Nico gaped at his father, slightly offended that he would send his son on such a trivial errand. The boy thought about arguing, but reconsidered when he realized that the job was an excuse to leave the throne room.

"Yes, father. I shall go at once to deliver this incredibly important message." Hades narrowed his eyes.

"The sarcasm is unappreciated, Nico." He said, and disappeared in a rush of shadows. The boy rolled his eyes once, spun on his heel, and marched out of the now empty throne room. He slipped into a nice, dark shadow, and after the standard moment of exhilarating speed, stepped into the lobby of DOA recording studios. Nico navigated through the larger-than-usual crowd of waiting spirits and approached Charon's desk. The Ferryman looked up. Surprise flitted across his face at seeing his boss' son.

"Ah, di Angelo, to what do I how this pleasure." Charon didn't look pleased.

"My father says to shut your mouth and get back to work." Nico deadpanned, not bothering with customary small talk (where they subtly insult each other while being outwardly nice) that Charon and Nico engage in.

"Is that all?" Charon sneered. Nico gave a sly smile.

"Yes." He turned to leave before Charon could throw in some derogatory remark. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a spirit he thought he recognized. He approached the dead man.

"Phil Coulson?" He asked. The man turned.

"Yes?"

"Nico di Angelo. It's a pleasure to meet you." Nico offered his hand to shake. The deceased SHIELD agent looked bewildered but accepted the gesture.

"Likewise. You wouldn't happen to know where we are would you." He asked. Even in death, he sounded sharp and business-like. "No one here will give me a straight answer, and the man at the desk is entirely unhelpful." Nico frowned thoughtfully. Now there was a tricky question.

"Are you religious?" He asked. Agent Coulson looked caught off guard by the boy's response but answered anyways.

"Not particularly." Nico deflated a little. This would be easier to explain if he were religious.

"Where do you think you are?" The teenager could see frustration flit across the older man's face.

"It appears that I am in a lobby that few people leave. Everyone is desperate to leave. But the man at the desk only takes a small group at a time." The agent said, as observant now as he was alive. "I thought I was dead."

"Oh, you are." Nico assured him. "Every spirit here sees what they believe comes after death." If you were Catholic, for example, you might think yourself in some kind of purgatory. However, you see a lobby, which is correct." He paused, something had occurred to him. "Speaking of that, why are you still here?"

"What do you mean?" The agent asked.

"Charon should have already taken you. You're on the express list because you died a hero's death."

"Charon is the man at the desk? He said I have no payment." Nico bristled. He supposed this was part of Charon's plan to strike.

"C"mon, I'll take you, and I'd be more than happy to file a complaint for you." He led the agent to a shadow in the corner. "Dad might even dock Charon's pay a little." He added as an afterthought. If Coulson heard his muttering, he didn't comment on it. Nico gripped the agent's forearm and dragged him into the shadows. They reappeared on the banks of the River Styx. Nico had to give the man credit, if the shadow-traveling fazed him, he didn't show it. They began walking towards the death lines.

"Wait," The man said suddenly, "are you dead too?" Nico grinned.

"No, I just live here. My father runs this place." Coulson looked shocked.

"Do you mean to say that your father is God? Are you Jesus?!" Nico laughed so hard he nearly cried.

"You think… that I'm…" He gasped, clutching at a stitch in his side. "me? Jesus? Oh, man that's rich." All through Nico's hysterics, Coulson looked scandalized.

"Well, you can't blame me for making what looked like an obvious assumption." He said defensively. It was a while before Nico calmed enough to speak. The son of Hades wiped at his watering eyes.

"I know, I know, sorry. It's just that I've been called a lot of things. But Jesus is a new one." Nico said, still chuckling.

"So you're alive."

"Very much so."

"And you can enter the living world."

"Last time I checked."

"Then tell me what happened to the Avengers. Please, I have to know." Nico sobered up. They had stopped walking, as the pair had reached the line for judgment for Elysium.

"Your Avengers prevailed, but at a heavy cost to the city of New York. Many people died, no one you were close to though." Coulson looked relieved. "They miss you, Steve especially."

"They'll move on." Couslon said nodded.

"This is where I leave you." He motioned at the line for Coulson to enter.

"Thank you." The agent said sincerely.

"Don't mention it. Enjoy Elysium, Phil."

* * *

><p>Bruce stared into his cup of rapidly cooling tea. The Avengers had been busy all morning and had just recently called a break to eat lunch. Tony had been offended when Clint said he didn't think the billionaire could cook his own lunch. He had declared that he accepted the challenge, and as a result, was in the kitchen at the moment. Clint was sprawled over a couch, dozing. A half eaten protein bar lay in his lap. Steve had fled to the gym a long time ago and Bruce suspected he was currently busting up another punching bag. Fury had excused himself an hour ago for a meeting, and Natasha had disappeared to God knows where.<p>

Bruce was concerned. The mystery of the Swordsman didn't add up. It had been clear that the man had controlled the water, but how? Every member of the Avengers was talented in their own way. And all of their talents and qualifications for the team were easily explainable. Tony was brilliant and fought with his suits. Natasha and Clint were lethally trained super spies. Rogers was changed by the Super Soldier Serum, and Bruce himself mutated by radiation. Even Thor was explainable, as he was a Norse demigod. But there was no way to rationalize how the man could control the water. It wasn't possible by human standards and highly unlikely that the Swordsman was another Asgardian. Bruce knew he was missing some key aspect. He just couldn't figure out what it was. The doctor was interrupted from his musings as Tony strode rapidly out of the kitchen.

"Tada!" He exclaimed, holding up a steaming bowl of food. Clint awoke with a snort. "I made my own lunch! Take that, Legolas!" Clint inspected the bowl suspiciously. His expression turned to one of disbelief.

"You burned Ramen noodles? How on earth did you manage to do that?" The archer said incredulously.

"It's a gift. I set the stove on fire too, but that's no big deal."

* * *

><p>Percy tried not to feel self-conscious as he entered the building where Annabeth worked for her architecture internship. He felt distinctly out of place. The floors were polished marble; tactfully modern artwork hung on the walls. Bright afternoon sunshine streamed in through tall, graceful windows. The lobby was teeming with well dressed, smart looking people. Percy had worn one of his nicer shirts for this very reason, but he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in his jeans and sneakers. He made his way over to one of the plush chairs dotting the room and sat to wait for Annabeth. Percy fervently hoped that she didn't decide to work through her lunch break. She wasn't expecting him, but he wanted to talk to her face to face after what had happened earlier that morning. Annabeth had assured him the she was fine, and Percy trusted his girlfriend's judgment, however, he was still worried. Annabeth hadn't had a Tartarus nightmare in months. His foot tapped impatiently and the receptionist from behind the front desk approached him.<p>

"Can help you with something?" She asked politely. Her eyes darted over Percy's clothes and disheveled hair. Percy shifted uncomfortably.

"No thanks, I'm just waiting for my girlfriend. Her lunch break starts in a few minutes." He said, hoping she would leave.

"Who is your girlfriend?" The girl asked. Her hand reached up to absently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, she's—"

"Percy?" Percy turned to see Annabeth walking across the lobby towards him. He immediately took in her appearance, searching for sings of tiredness or stress. She was dressed smartly in a black skirt and light grey blouse. Her curly blonde hair was pinned back, instead of its customary ponytail. Percy could pick out light bags under her eyes, but knowing his Wise Girl, they were probably from working late, rather than nightmares. His worries eased up considerably.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. "Nothing is wrong, is it?" The receptionist's jaw dropped.

"This is Percy?" She demanded.

"What, I can't pick my girlfriend up for a surprise lunch date anymore?" Percy teased.

"This is your boyfriend?"

"Well that's sweet of you Percy. What prompted this?" The question was unnecessary. Annabeth knew what this was about.

"Annabeth, you didn't tell me he was hot!" Annabeth blushed a deep red color, finally paying attention the girl.

"Yes, Gracie, this is my boyfriend Percy. Percy, this is my friend Gracie." They shook hands.

"Ready to go?" Percy asked and Annabeth nodded.

"I'll see you later, Gracie." She said. The girl just shook her head incredulously; apparently shocked that Annabeth had an attractive boyfriend.

"Did you hear that, Annabeth? I'm hot." Percy said as they walked down the sidewalk; their hands linked together and swinging slightly.

"Don't let it go to your head, Seaweed Brain." The blonde said and readjusted the strap of her bag.

"When I really think about it though, I'm sort of offended that she was surprised." Percy mused. "She thought I was going to be ugly."

"Well, Percy isn't a very attractive name." Annabeth said. Percy let go of her hand to theatrically clutch at his heart.

"You wound me!" The girl laughed.

"No, let me explain. When you hear the name Percy, a nerdy British man comes to mind." She chuckled, and then gasped. "Like that Weasely guy in Harry Potter!" Percy scrunched up his nose.

"Are you comparing me to a fictional character from a children's book?" He said.

"Now, Brad is an attractive name. When you hear the name Brad, you think of someone hot." Annabeth continued, ignoring Percy's comment.

"So I should watch out for Brads?" He asked, slightly miffed from the Harry Potter comment, and led her into a tiny sandwich shop. They entered the warmly lit room and the tantalizing odor of fresh baked break hit their noses.

"You don't need to watch for anybody, Percy. I'm not going anywhere." She walked further into the shop, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just made Percy's day.

"Now what kind of sandwich should I get?"

* * *

><p>Consciousness came about slowly. One by one her senses returned. First, her sense of touch came. She was in a comfortable bed; soft blankets wrapped around her. There was something taped to her wrist and she became aware of the pounding pain in her forehead. Her limbs felt heavy, and when she tried to open her eyelids and discovered that they wouldn't obey. Next came smell and sound. The sharp smell of disinfectant filled the air and a soft, steady beeping sounded closely by her left. <em>A hospital<em>, she thought. _I'm in a hospital._ But why? Her memory returned slowly, and in disjointed flashes.

She had been on the street, waiting for someone. Who? Her mother, she remembered. Ever since she had begun turning her life around, she and her mother had become much closer. She had been sitting at a table outside a café, cola in one hand, and phone in the other. She remembered feeling proud that she no longer had the urge to pickpocket the lady at the table next to hers purse. After that, recognizable memory became harder to find. There had been people running, screaming. Strange alien-things flew out of a hole in the sky. An explosion rocked the streets. She fell. The world was blurry. One of the aliens stood over her. It raised its arm, attached to it was some sort of weapon. Someone rescued her. It was a man. She remembered trying to discern his features as he fought the alien off, but she was seeing double and he had his hood up. Her feet left the ground as she was scooped up and carried to a safer spot. Large gaps filled her mind. Green eyes, she thought. Her rescuer had the most brilliant, green eyes. They filled her memory; something about them was vaguely recognizable.

The girl finally opened her own eyes. She was in a hospital. Suddenly, she felt herself being crushed to the bed. She realized her mother was hugging her.

"Nancy, oh, thank God!" She sobbed, easing up a little to look at Nancy's. "You had us so worried!" Nancy Bobofit shifted into a more upright position.

"What happened?" She asked. Her mother grasped Nancy's hand in her own.

"We got a call that you were in the hospital. We talked to the officer who brought you in. He said you were saved by a man- the officer didn't catch his name- and carried to safety by him." Nancy nodded softly.

"How long have I been out?" She asked. Her mother bit lip.

"A week."

"A week?!" Nancy shot upright and winced when pain laced through her head. Her mother nodded and they fell silent for a while. Nancy was on the verge of falling asleep when her mother spoke again.

"Nancy?"

"What?"

"The man who rescued you told the police officer your name. How did he know who you are?" Nancy frowned.

"I didn't know him." But she felt like she did.

* * *

><p>The long summer grass tickled Katie's legs as she flopped onto ground.<p>

"Travis, I will never teach another gardening class to your cabin again. They're hoodlums! All of them! You're lucky my spade was out of reach, or you would have one less brother today." She said as Travis sat down next to her.

"Katie-Kat, I think you are blowing this out of proportion just a little bit." Travis Stoll said, absentmindedly pulling up the grass under his hands. Katie scowled.

"Don't call me that."

"Why not, Katie-Bug?"

"Travis!"

"Katie-Kitten?" She punched him in the arm. Hard. "Alright, alright, I concede." Katie smirked, satisfied. Suddenly, Travis checked his watch and yelped.

"Styx! Sorry, Katie, I gotta go. Connor and I have a meeting tonight." He jumped up and Katie followed.

"A meeting? Where! Camp is under lockdown." Travis began walking away from her backwards, grinning. He spread his arms wide.

"C'mon, Katie-Kat, has that ever stopped up before?"

* * *

><p>Natasha didn't know how long she had been sitting on the roof, but she was pretty sure it had been over an hour. The roof was still scorched from the battle pretty badly. The shrapnel had been cleared away though, and solitude had made her feel safe. The view of Manhattan from the top of Stark Tower was breathtaking. Below her, the city bustled. Miles of snarling traffic and crowds of busy people made the city appear teeming with life. From her vantage point though, it was like listening to the sounds of New York through a thick blanket. The city's cacophony of noises barely reached her. Height made everything look more trivial, ant people with ant lives. Those people down there didn't know that their reality was about to get rocked again. Natasha was pretty sure that her teammates didn't know it yet. They hadn't grasped the implications of the video. Maybe she hadn't either, but she had a gut feeling.<p>

Suddenly, Natasha had the very distinct feeling that she was no longer alone. She whirled around. Standing behind her was a man who definitely should not have access to this particular roof. The Black Widow watched him warily. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a tan face. He was wearing a tracksuit, and his sneakers had a wing pattern stitched into the sides.

"Who are you?" She asked, keeping her voice low and menacing. Her hand twitched towards the gun at her hip. The man simply smiled.

"Relax, would you? I'm simply delivering a message." He pulled an envelope out of seemingly nowhere.

"A message from whom?" He ignored her question.

"Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, a Russian spy, SHIELD agent, a member of the Avengers," Natasha barely concealed her shock at hearing how much the man knew. "I'm here to tell you to stop looking."

"For who, the Swordsman?" The man's mouth tightened at the mention of the Swordsman.

"There are some things in which you should remain ignorant. This is one of them."

"We have a right to know." She said. The man gave her a sad smile.

"Do you?" She had opened her mouth to argue when the service door to the roof suddenly flew open. Tense from the conversation, Natasha jumped at the sound and whirled around. Clint stood at the door, a perplexed look on his face.

"There you are, Nat! We've been- hey, what's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost." The Black Widow turned back to the man… only to find that he had disappeared. On the ground where he had stood, the letter lay face down. Natasha walked over to it; Clint quickly joined her.

"What is it?" He asked as she stooped to pick it up. Her gut feeling doubled. She turned the letter over to the front. It was addressed to the Avengers in deep gold ink. In the corner there was a postage stamp depicting the Empire State Building.

"It's a warning."

**Well, there you have it! I had a lot of fun with this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. There are some parts in here I'm pretty proud of. Unfortunately, I can't guarantee that the updates will always come as fast as these first ones have. I'm involved in pretty much everything at my school, so on top of my advanced classes coursework, clubs, sports, and social life(shocking I know), I don't have a lot of time to write. So if some time passes between updates don't think that I've given up. I just have loads on my plate right now. And I don't want to rush anything. Just know that not a lot can keep up till 3 a.m. typing, but you guys do. Seriously, I can't thank you enough for your support. You're the best. And I'm sorry for this obnoxiously long Authors Note. I think I'm done now. **

**p.s. To all of you awesome people who wished me luck with Physics… I got an A on my first test. I think it was all thanks to you;)**


	4. Chapter 4

_Flashback_

_The back of the camp van was hot and stuffy. The pre-battle energy in the air was practically tangible as nine ADHD demigods (Annabeth was driving) sat impatiently, each clutching their weapons tightly. Every one of them was a seasoned veteran but the nerves never did go away. No one spoke, nothing needed to be said. A grate slid back, revealing the front cab of the van. Annabeth told them that they were ten minutes out. _

"_I can see smoke. We're late." She said, and Percy's grip on his pen-sword tightened until his knuckles were white. That was HIS city they attacking. The only thing that kept Percy remotely calm was the fact that Sally and Paul were out of town, and would be for many more days. _

_Percy stood, putting a hand to the wall as he did so to steady himself in the van's swaying. _

"_I know you guys don't want to hear my pre-battle speech. Zeus knows, most of you have heard it too many times. Just remember that we have to do this discretely. We can't make anyone suspicious. No big displays of power- not unless you're desperate. Leo- I'm talking to you."_

"_I resent that." _

"_Don't get carried away. Be smart. And remember that we always have each other's backs. Right? I'm glad that I'm fighting with you guys. I wouldn't rather it be anyone else." Percy looked to his friend's faces, meeting each of their gazes. These people were his family. He had gone through so much with them. Travis and Connor, Katie, Leo, Jason and Piper, Nico and even Clarisse, stared back at him solemnly. _

"_We fight as a family, no matter what." Piper spoke up, and Jason squeezed her hand. Clarisse grunted the affirmative, which Percy figured was all they were going to get. _

"_Well, now that we've all proclaimed our love for each other, I feel so much better." Leo joked. His hands fiddled with some spare parts from his tool belt. The demigods in the van laughed and the tension disappeared. _

"_Does anyone else get a sense of déjà vu here?" Connor asked, earning another round of chuckles the two-timers. Percy smiled. They were going to be alright._

_End Flashback_

* * *

><p>The shadows spit Nico out into a dark alley in Manhattan. Ever since the Giant War he had learned to avoid New York. New York meant Percy. Nico had made good on his promise to Jason and had disappeared for the better part of two years. But, as always, he had found himself inexplicably drawn back into the life of a demigod. The first few times he had encountered Percy had been awkward, so painfully awkward. And it had all been on Nico's part. He could see how much it frustrated the son of Poseidon because the boy was too oblivious to see why, and Nico would rather go back to Tartarus than tell him. They had slowly been working through the tension, but the son of Hades tried to keep the contact to a minimum. Nico was fairly confident that Annabeth had puzzled it out, but Percy still didn't know.<p>

He looked around furtively to see if anyone had witnessed his little trick of stepping out of a wall. The alley was empty. Nico wasn't sure why he was in New York right now. There were so many places that he could, and would, rather be. This little cabin at the beach in France for example- no. He focused himself once more, fighting to control his ADHD. _Why am I in New York?_ He thought as he stepped out of the alley and began walking in a random direction, not caring where he went. Something told him that he needed to be here. Nico didn't know what it was. When he traveled, the shadows tried to push him to the city. He felt itchy and uncomfortable in every other place. Something big was about to happen—he knew—and it was going to happen here.

But until he figured out what that was, Nico needed a place to stay. Immediately ruling out Camp (it was too far), he could come up with only three options. He could crash at the Jackson-Blofis residence, where Percy stayed over the summer when he wasn't in college. Sally would be thrilled but Nico really didn't like that choice. He could find a comfy bit of ground behind some dumpster, which he had done before and hated. Or, he could go bother Rachel Dare. The more he thought about this option, the more plausible it seemed. Over the past couple months, he and Rachel had become odd friends. She understood him and didn't judge. And she, unlike most others, wasn't terrified by the powers he possessed. Mind made up, Nico stepped back into the shadows.

He landed in her pantry. For a moment he doubted the wisdom of this particular situation. Fervently hoping that she didn't have company, he pushed the door open and stepped into her apartment.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare had moved out of her parent's home as soon as she had turned eighteen last year, and bought a small flat with a beautiful view of the city. She had converted it onto an art studio where she stored brushes in the utensils drawer, and jars of paint in the cabinets. Drying canvases hung on the walls, and a plastic tarp covered the whole floor. The only common conventions she possessed were a small television which was sitting on an old paint crate across from a couch. The basic necessities for life were stored in odd corners around the flat, as if unimportant. Rachel walked out of the bathroom, her fire red hair pinned back from her face with a paint brush stuck through it. Her hands were covered in blue splotches. The oracle didn't even blink when she spotted Nico.

"Hey Nico, I was wondering when you were going to show up. You don't mind sleeping on the couch do you?" Nico spluttered and Rachel walked casually into the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?"

"What- how… did you…I" He followed dumbly into the kitchen.

"Ummm…Oracle here." She gave him a _well duh_ look, gesturing to herself airily. "Now, is coffee fine? Ten in the morning is too early for me." Nico nodded, and Rachel busied herself with the pot of coffee. He began to absently look around at her art, recognizing some pieces. The newest one caught his eye. The paint was still drying. Nico felt a ball of dread form in his gut.

"Rachel, what is this one?" She walked over to see what he was talking about. Her face fell.

"Oh, I just painted that last night." She handed him a steaming cup of coffee. The heat felt nice against his icy hands.

"But what is it?" He thought he knew.

"A problem."

* * *

><p>Thalia called her hunters to a halt somewhere deep in the mountains of Pennsylvania. Large trees threw great puddles of shade over the sparse grass. The sky was a soupy blue threaded with little, white wisps. She announced a five minute break. Artemis had told them two days ago to head to Camp Half-Blood. They had heard about the events in New York. Going to camp was simply a precaution and Artemis was wanted on Olympus. Many of the hunters resented the insinuation that they couldn't take care of themselves but Thalia was glad to be going back. She could speak to Jason at camp and she was worried about Annabeth and Percy.<p>

That boy always managed to get himself in trouble and Annabeth would get inevitably dragged into it as well. The lieutenant of Artemis leaned against a massive pine. It reminded Thalia of her own tree. Earlier that day, Phoebe had been saying that she didn't know why the gods were making such a big deal out of this. There had been times when it seemed that their secrets would be exposed to the world. But they had blown over and the crisis had been averted. Phoebe supposed that this would be the same.

Thalia wasn't so sure though. She had a bad feeling about this. The daughter of Zeus set the hunters to move out again. A sense of urgency had been settling over her. Thalia needed to get to camp.

Something big was about to happen.

* * *

><p>Clint had been to the Metropolitan Museum of Art before, but never while working a case. The imposing, tan building was left untouched by the attack. However, the mood outside the museum was somber. The windows were covered by heavy curtains and the doors were closed. No street vendors cluttered the sidewalk, and the steps to the doors were clear of people. Police tape marked off the perimeter. The news reporters had been at the Met, trying to push the boundaries of the tape all day. Clint and Natasha slipped by them as they huddled around a museum official. Ushered through a side door by a NYPD officer, they walked down empty and dark halls to the only lit exhibit.<p>

Clint wasn't sure why he and Natasha were there. This was a matter of stolen pottery, not national security. Granted, the jar in question was thousands of years, but the archer didn't see why that fell under SHIELD's jurisdiction. Natasha said it was because Fury was paranoid and on edge. Anything even slightly peculiar was being checked out by SHIELD at the moment. And this case was peculiar to say the least. Nobody stole from the Met.

The Greek section of the Met was flooded with false daylight. The voices of various detectives and museum officials echoed around the room. Natasha and Clint joined them, earning a few odd looks. The room's inhabitants were gathered around an empty pedestal. Yet more police tape closed it off, but Clint ducked under it. A curator moved to stop him but was frozen under Natasha's warning glare. The archer approached the pedestal. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Natasha making a cursory sweep of the room to look for other clues. Finding nothing out of place, Clint stepped back.

"We got the call that it was gone early in the morning." Clint turned to face the speaker. It was a young looking police officer. The man was looking at the pedestal thoughtfully. "The janitors had come in to sweep and found the case empty. They told me the jar was one of the oldest they had. The security on this thing rivaled Fort Knox." Clint raised his eyebrow at that.

"And it was just gone."

"No evidence?"

"We've combed this place over three times and we haven't found but one thing." The officer said. From across the room, Natasha gave Clint a subtle shake of her head. She hadn't found anything either.

"What did you find?" Clint prompted. The officer pursed his lips.

"We found a clue, left purposely behind by the thief-or thieves- for us to see. It was a note card. The janitors found it lying where the jar used to be. There was a message written on it, which said: _Too easy. Please make it more challenging next time._" The officer looked troubled. Clint nodded and dismissed himself from the man, thanking him in the process. He kept a stoic face as he walked across the room, hiding the thoughts whirling haphazardly through his head. One thing was clear. Forty seconds later, he and Natasha were exiting the gallery.

"Clint," She started slowly, "why are we leaving so soon?" He told her about the message.

"They aren't going to find anything and neither are we, not with a thief that good." He pushed open the door and stepped into daylight. "It's a waste of time."

* * *

><p>Jason's offhand comment about patenting the prosthetic leg design had been poking incessantly at Leo's brain for the past two days. He had been tinkering with parts and designs all his life, but no one had actually taken his inventions this seriously before. Leo had always wanted to own a repair shop, never thinking about actually building his own designs to sell. Now the idea had taken root, and Leo couldn't shake it, which was the reason he and Jason were sitting in a stuffy gymnasium in Percy's old high school. Leo had IM'd Percy with his patent idea, and his friend had told him about how Goode held a technologies fair every summer. That in itself wasn't that exciting. The 2,000 dollar cash prize for first place was. According to the Athena campers; patent attorneys required a lot of money, money that Leo did not have.<p>

Leo's entry was last minute. And his entry was Jason, seeing that Jason was wearing his latest design. As far Leo could see, his entry was by far the best. There was only one problem.

He didn't have a display prepared. All he could do was make Jason walk, and run and do a back flip (which he had been practicing for days). This amazed the room, and Leo was feeling pretty good about his odds. But when the judges asked how the technology worked; he left them in the dust with technical terms and jargon that they couldn't understand.

And the prize ended up going to some kid with a robot, and Leo was certain that the competition had been rigged.

"It'll be okay, man." Jason said comfortingly. "I'll help you figure something out." Leo fiddled with a piece of wire dejectedly.

"Yeah, whatever." They began walking to the gym doors. The room was a flurry of activity as people packed their displays. Cameras flashed from the winner's table. "Stupid robot" Leo muttered. Jason opened his mouth to speak when they were interrupted.

"Hey! Wait, you're the kid who made the leg right?"

"Yeah, why…" Leo's voice trailed off as he saw who was speaking to him. His jaw dropped, the wire in his hands fell to the floor. Tony Stark was walking confidently towards him.

"I saw the last half of your presentation. It looked like you had lost the judges, but your design is smart. Can I see?" Leo was at a loss for words. He could vaguely hear Jason asking what Tony Stark was doing _here_ and he must have responded with something Jason didn't like because the boy frowned. But it sounded like Leo was listening to them speak through a wall.

Tony Stark was standing right in front of him. His childhood idol had just called his design smart.

"So," Tony prompted, "can I see it?" Leo snapped out of his shock.

"Oh, yeah, of course you can!" He said, enthusiastically. Jason rolled his eyes and sat down on the bleachers. Tony knelt to have a closer look at Jason's leg.

Leo soon discovered that he loved talking with Tony. There were very few people who could understand the son of Hephaestus when he really got going. Tony was one of them. Half an hour later, the gym was empty, save the three of them and the janitor who was sweeping. Jason's eyes were drooping, bored by the technical talk, when Tony finally realized the time.

"Shit!" He exclaimed, causing Jason to wake with a start. His hand flew to his waist, where a discreet knife was hidden, but he caught himself in time. The movement went unnoticed by Stark "Listen, kid, I have to go, but I would love to bring you around the tower sometime and see what you can do with actual equipment." Leo stopped breathing.

"What's your number?"

"Oh, umm, I don't have a phone." He mumbled. Tony looked a little surprised but didn't comment on it.

"What's your address then?" Leo's heart sank. He was pretty sure that he wasn't supposed to go around giving mortals the camp's address. Jason gave him a subtle nudge and Leo glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. His friends nodded. Leo grinned and gave Tony the address.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Half-Blood Hill?"

* * *

><p>Tony Stark rubbed his eyes. The past couple days had given him little sleep, and he was tired. The man had spent the majority of the day going through the video at an agonizingly slow pace, looking for a clear shot of the Swordsman's face. In fact, going to the technologies fair had simply been an excuse to leave the tower. Besides, Pepper had encouraged him to put himself out to the media in a more positive way. Showing up to a technologies fair of his own accord would certainly do the trick. He hadn't been overly impressed by anything until he had seen the kid's prosthetic leg. Leo was brilliant, that much Tony could see. He reminded Tony a little of himself. The hyper Hispanic boy had been so enthusiastic about his work; it had made Tony realize that recently he had been drifting away from true mechanics. He had been working more with the media in mind than himself and he needed to get back to what he truly loved to do. Leo's natural talent was reminiscent to Tony's at that age. The boy just needed the right push. Once this whole Swordsman debacle was cleared up, the inventor would love to find out what the kid was really capable of.<p>

Tony pushed aside his other thoughts for the moment and continued to comb through the video. By this time, it was getting late. Tony's stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten lunch. The man watched the video inch by in agonizingly slow motion. Now that the shock of the footage had worn off, he could truly appreciate the skill of the Swordsman. Maybe Natasha was right when she said that they were dealing with something they didn't understand. There was no speeding up this process. Tony felt like his brain was going to melt if he had to watch any further.

"JARVIS, pause the video!" He cried suddenly. Something promising had just flicked past his eyes. So far, any shots of the Swordsman's face had been blurry or partially blocked. "Back it up a few frames." Tony watched with bated breath. "Just a few more…no you passed it…there!" The video settled on a single image and Tony zoomed in. He punched the air triumphantly.

"Damn, I am so good." Tony said to himself. The image on the screen was a clear three-quarter profile. The Swordsman's hood was partially lowered, revealing the tan face of a surprisingly young man. He had inky black hair and bright, almost unnaturally green eyes. If Stark didn't know better, he would have suspected that they were photo shopped. The man's nose was straight, and he had a strong jaw line. His mouth was a thin line of determination.

Tony cracked his knuckles. This was something he could work with.

* * *

><p>The team was seated at the kitchen table in the tower, all present—save Stark, who was breaking down the video. Bruce, Clint, and Natasha were deep in conversation, but Steve wasn't really paying attention. The letter left by the mystery man sat on the table mockingly. Natasha's face was in its usual emotionless state, but Steve could tell it was bothering her. The letter-and the tale of how Natasha received the letter- perplexed Steve. How does a man manage to sneak up on a highly trained assassin, on the top of Stark Tower, no less? And how did he vanish without a trace?<p>

A full day of frustrating research and digging had resulted in no answers. The Avengers had nothing. The letter itself was written on thick, expensive parchment. There was no return address (although, that was not surprising). The letter went as follows:

_To: The Avengers and whomever else it may concern,_

_The world is full of mysteries. And while humanity has spent centuries unraveling its secrets, some are not meant to be uncovered. For your own sake, call off your search before you find yourselves in a situation you cannot handle. _

_Keep in mind the story of Pandora's Box._

_Consider it a lesson._

The letter was unsigned. It unnerved Steve. While the message itself was not threatening, and defied the usual parameters of a warning letter, it held undercurrents of a severity that the Captain couldn't comprehend. The comment about Pandora's box reinforced the message that their curiosity would need to go unsatisfied. In light of recent events, the team had unanimously decided to contact Thor. The Avengers would not be dissuaded.

"Maybe Point Break will know what's going on." Stark had said. Steve brought it up to Fury, and the Director had readily agreed, promising to take care of it.

The team was now in an awkward period of limbo. Until Stark could come up with identification from the video, there was nothing they could do. There were no other leads. Steve could tell that Clint and Natasha were itching for something to do. In the morning, the pair of assassins had gone over to the Metropolitan Museum to investigate an art robbery. Upon their return, the team had been entertained with the story of the intriguing case. It was just as mysterious as the Swordsman. Steve tuned back into the team's conversation in time to hear Clint speak.

"We haven't even considered the possible identity of the person who appeared at the end of the video. He was clearly an accomplice." The archer said. Natasha frowned.

"I thought the figure looked feminine."

"Blonde hair." Steve mentioned offhandedly. Natasha turned to him.

"What?"

"She had blonde hair, if that helps any." The Captain could hear Bruce mumble,_ not really_, under his breath.

"Well, _I_ didn't think that the figure looked feminine." Clint said. The Black Widow scoffed.

"She was obviously a girl. Did you pay attention to the way she held herself?"

Tony interrupted the brewing argument. A wide, victorious grin split his face.

"Natasha, Katniss, I really hate to interrupt what looked like a lovely discussion, but I have something you might want to see." He said smugly. The team was at his side and following him back to his lab in a heartbeat.

"I couldn't get a straight-on picture, but I got close. So, paired with the angle of the photo, and the quality of the video, I was able to narrow the suspect list to 19 people. There were more, but I threw out the ones not from the city—it seemed more likely that they would be native to the area." Tony brandished his hand in a sweeping gesture at the screen.

"That's the Swordsman?" Natasha asked.

"He looks a bit young." Bruce commented. Steve couldn't help but frown. He felt like he had seen that face somewhere.

"Men—and woman—" Tony said, "we have some work cut out for us tomorrow."

* * *

><p>With the camp lockdown lifted, and Jason off somewhere with Leo, Piper decided to head back to her apartment that she shared with Annabeth in New York. She hadn't spoken to Annabeth recently, but knew from Jason—who had spoken to Leo—who had spoken to Percy—that the girl's nightmares were starting to act up again. Piper figured it was from the stress of the current events. The daughter of Aphrodite nodded pleasantly to the doorman, and headed to the stairs. She cursed the bratty boys from 3A who had broken the elevator with every flight she ascended.<p>

Finally, she reached the fifth floor, and began walking down the hallway. Piper fumbled with the key before finally fitting it in the lock and turning. The warm smell of cookies greeted her nose, and Piper was willing to bet money that Percy was at the apartment, and that those cookies were blue. She walked into the apartment and her inner Aphrodite-ness nearly cried. The scene before her was adorable. The lights were dimmed, and a movie sounded softly in the background. In the back of her head, Piper recognized that it was Clash of the Titans. Percy and Annabeth were curled up on the couch together. An empty popcorn bowl sat abandoned on the floor. Percy's head was resting on his girlfriend's lap and he was snoring lightly. Annabeth's hand ran through his hair gently. The daughter of Athena looked up at Piper's arrival, and she raised finger to her lips, motioning at her sleeping boyfriend. Piper smiled and set her bag down.

"Looks like you're stuck" She said in a whisper. Annabeth smiled and looked down at Percy.

"I don't want to wake him. He looks so peaceful and untroubled." Annabeth's face was sad.

"What's wrong, Annabeth?" Piper asked. She sighed, and for a while, didn't answer, looking down thoughtfully.

"I can't help but feel like this will be our last peaceful moment together for a while. It's starting again. Maybe it won't be war this time, maybe it will. But something is going to happen and Percy will be in the middle of it." The girl looked up at Piper, some unidentifiable emotion playing across her face. "I'm enjoying this while it lasts." Heaviness seemed to settle over the room. Percy snored on, oblivious to the conversation.

"It's like the calm before the storm." Piper said. Annabeth nodded.

"I never know if we'll make it through another one."

**Ugh. I feel like it took me forever to get this one out. For some reason, I just had trouble with it; it wouldn't flow the way I wanted it to. But I hope you guys liked it. Like Piper said—this chapter is the calm before the storm. Everyone is converging on New York, and the characters' arcs are crossing each other's more and more. There are a whole lot of different ways this story can go right now, but I have some big things planned for the next couple chapters. I'm excited. As always, Thanks for the reviews and the support you've given this story! You guys are seriously awesome. Keep it up, I love to hear from you!**

**(Maybe now we can get to the good stuff)**

**p.s. I do take your suggestions into consideration, however, I already have a pretty clear idea of what is going to happen. So, I'm not going to act on all of them. Keep 'em coming though**

**p.p.s. that was a shameless plug for reviews;)**


	5. Chapter 5

Two men sat, backs leaning against a rocky outcrop, in a small clearing in the woods. A tense silence stretched between them. The shorter man looked angry. In his hands, he held a short bronze blade, which he tapped insistently against his thigh. The shorter man was looking everywhere around the clearing, except for at his companion. The companion was just slightly taller. The taller man looked regretful and ashamed. He stared forlornly at the ancient jar resting at his feet. He did not get what the big deal was. Yeah, the jar was old. But it was just like any other jar from ancient Greece. He had even seen nicer ones. The stolen jar was of moderate size, and made of polished bronze. It was ringed with elaborate etchings of the gods, and around the lip was writing that had been worn away to become illegible. But the pictures were inaccurate. The taller man knew for a fact that Ares' nose was quite a bit more crooked than depicted in the drawings. The shorter man spoke suddenly, shattering the early morning silence.

"Dude, you are so whipped."

The taller man started violently, breaking out of his thoughts. "I am not!"

"She only yelled at you for half an hour this time. It used to take her _days_ to wear you down." The shorter man said, disdain seeping into his tone. The taller man frowned.

"We shouldn't have taken it in the first place. It's only right to return it."

The shorter man finally turned to his taller companion; his face was incredulous.

"Bro, are you going soft on me? What was that?!"

"I am not going soft!"

"It's that woman, I swear. I'm losing you." The shorter man made dramatic sweeping motions with his arms, drawing an eye-roll from the taller man. "Come back to me, Bro, come back!"

"Dude, shut up." The taller man said as he rose from the ground, scooping up the jar as he did. Watery, morning sunlight glanced briefly off the bronze. His motions closed the argument.

The shorter man sighed heavily, as if resigned to the fact that the taller one would not be swayed.

"Pushover." He muttered, earning himself a hard shove. The shorter man rubbed his shoulder petulantly, and the two walked out of the clearing- one determined, the other sulking.

* * *

><p>Clarisse marched irritably through the camp towards Thalia's Pine. The sun was just rising, bathing the cabins in a weak light. Dew drops dampened her combat boots, and she strapped a shield to her arm as she walked. The daughter of Ares muttered darkly under her breath. She had stopped being an official camper two years ago, when she was eighteen, and yet her siblings were too lazy to take her name off of the guard duty roster.<p>

When Clarisse had turned eighteen, she had been unsure of what to do with her life. She could have gone to Camp Jupiter; to the college there- a lot of the Greek campers were doing that. But the Romans were too disciplined for her liking, and she wanted to try her hand at the real world. If Prissy could do it, so could she. So she had gotten a part time job and her high school diploma online, and now she was talking to a military recruiter. The marines were looking particularly enticing. But it was good to be home for the moment, she had almost missed her life at camp—except for guard duty. Clarisse was actually sort of pissed about this.

After the Giant War, Camp Half-Blood had strengthened its defenses. The magical border was stronger than ever, the Hephaestus campers had installed video cameras along the incoming roads, and a series of watchtowers had been erected along the boundary. There were three watchtowers, placed like points on a compass at the extreme ends of the camp, the fourth side being protected by the Long Island Sound. Each watchtower was occupied by two campers at all times, with one camper making a patrol along the ground. It was truthfully unnecessary for there to be two campers in each tower. Most of the time, the boundary was quiet. It was to the largest tower-the one by Thalia's Pine- that Clarisse was headed to now. Reaching the base of the tower, she slung her spear over her back, and ascended the rungs to the platform at the top. Her partner was already there.

"You're late."

Clarisse sent the boy a withering look. He was one of the Romans; his name didn't come to her mind. The tip of his pointy nose was red from the morning chill. Clarisse thus named him Rudolph.

"And I have no doubt that you were early. What's the difference?" She said gruffly. Rudolph looked affronted.

"You Greeks have no appreciation of discipline," ranted the boy. Clarisse mentally reminded herself that if she killed him, she would have to listen to Chiron's lecture about violence again. "Maybe, if you had a little more respect for rules and regulations, this camp would run more smoothly. I—"

His next words cut off as Clarisse lunged across the platform and seized him by his collar. She sent his sword clattering to the ground. In one smooth motion, the girl swung him over the watchtower railing, and held him. Rudolph's feet dangled a good thirty feet off of the ground.

"If one more word comes out of your mouth, my fingers just might slip. And you'll take the hard and fast way back to the ground. Understand?" Clarisse growled—her voice low. Rudolph's Adam's apple bobbed nervously. Satisfied that he wouldn't speak in her presence for the rest of his life, the daughter of Ares' dropped him safely onto the wooden slats of the platform.

He spluttered and got to his feet swiftly, keeping as far away from her as bodily possible. Clarisse smirked. It was good to be feared, and no matter how well the Greeks and Romans got along, she would never like them.

The rest of the watch passed in icy silence. Clarisse was relieved when two Apollo campers came to take the next shift. Her shift had been so boring; she had caught herself missing the days when the camp was constantly in mortal peril. At least then it had been interesting.

* * *

><p>Percy rolled groggily out of bed and contemplated, for the fifth day in row, splitting his alarm clock in half with Riptide. It was six in the morning. Why, in Hades name, was he awake at six in the morning on a Saturday? The answer didn't come to him until he stumbled into the shower. The hot spray of water finally woke him up. His team competed in their first swim meet of the season today. Percy finished getting ready quickly and snagged a blue muffin on his way out the door, saying goodbye to Paul—who had always been an early riser— as he did so.<p>

The streets of New York were relatively clear of pedestrians at this hour, and Percy easily flagged down a cab. He finished his muffin on the ride to the meet, reviewing race times as he did. The meet was being held at the facility on the NYU campus. A facility Percy knew well, as he swam in that pool nearly every day during the school year. The university had offered him a full ride to swim on their team, and he had jumped at the opportunity. Percy didn't think him swimming was particularly fair, but it kept him in school, and he wouldn't get another chance like this.

The cab ride was quickly over due to the light morning traffic and Percy stepped out onto the curb. He shifted the swim bag slung over his shoulder, and walked into the campus, ready for an eventful day.

* * *

><p>The team was eating breakfast in the kitchen. Well, correction, Steve was eating breakfast. The captain was wolfing down a plate full of scrambled eggs and toast. Stark was nursing a glass of wine and some cold pizza (which hardly qualifies as a meal), and Banner sipped his tea quietly. The room was mostly silent, only the gentle background noise of the appliances could be heard. Steve was mentally preparing himself for the grueling day ahead.<p>

Stark's voice brought the Captain out of his thoughts.

"Seriously, do you two even eat…or do you, like, live off of pure willpower? That's what super assassins do, right?" The question was directed at Clint and Natasha, who were poring over the files of the 19 suspects Stark had come up with. Clint lazily lifted his middle finger and Natasha simply ignored the comment.

"Looking at some of these files, I think there are several people we can rule out right away." She said, gesturing to a few of them. A basic background check had been printed out for the subjects. It was Tony and Bruce's job to research them in greater detail today. Clint, Natasha, and Steve would be splitting up and following the suspects, ruling them out one by one.

"No, we have to be thorough with all of them." Bruce interjected.

Steve nodded. "I agree, this Swordsman is already so far from normal, we can't let any stone go unturned."

Tony groaned and muttered something about that being more work.

* * *

><p>Nico rose silently from his makeshift bed on Rachel's couch, thankful that she couldn't be counted on to wake earlier than noon today. He shrugged on his normal black attire and scribbled out a quick note to the redheaded oracle. Nico looked again at Rachel's latest painting. It made him apprehensive.<p>

Shaking himself out of his thoughts—Nico was on a mission today—he walked quickly to the kitchen and slid open the window that led to the fire escape. The sixteen year old knew for a fact that Rachel's father had secretly installed surveillance cameras outside her front door. The girl herself didn't know it, and Nico felt slightly guilty about not cluing her in. But it wasn't any of his business.

The window slid open soundlessly but the metal of the fire escape creaked loudly. Nico wasn't too concerned, though. Rachel was as good as dead to the world at the moment. He descended to the alley below her apartment quickly. A quick check confirmed that no one was watching him, and he noiselessly slid into a deep shadow, disappearing.

* * *

><p>"Alright, we're live!" Stark's voice boomed through Clint's earpiece and he winced.<p>

"Great," the archer said dryly, "I get to listen to your obnoxious voice all day."

"Yeah, we're thrilled, Stark." Clint heard Steve say. Clint was walking down a bustling street in the shopping district on Manhattan. His trained eyes darted over the scene, taking in everything as he went.

"You guys wound me. I thought we were friends." Tony said. Clint could hear the mock hurt in his voice. He rolled his eyes. Clint dodged a woman with a stroller and ducked into the store where his first target worked. The assassin immediately felt out of place. The store was smothered in tie-dye apparel and dripping in peace signs. Environmentalist slogans were scrawled across all of the products. Clint got the distinct sense that the gun holstered at his hip would be highly disapproved of here.

"Can I help you?"

Clint turned to see his target, a one, Sage Mathers, standing behind him. He did look somewhat like the Swordsman in the picture, with messy black hair and a similar jaw line. A helpful smile was on his face, his shirt denounced weaponry. Clint grimaced internally.

"Actually, I'm looking for a gift for my niece," He lied smoothly, "she is really into saving the…"Clint cast his eyes around the shop and they alighted on a fluffy, stuffed animal, "polar bears. Yeah, she likes polar bears."

Sage was immediately absorbed in the task of finding Clint's imaginary niece the perfect gift. The assassin could tell within the first couple sentences that this was _not _the Swordsman.

But he still bought a paperweight. It would have been rude not to.

* * *

><p>Natasha sat in an inconspicuous car, observing illegal activities. Joey Watson, her current suspect was standing in the shade of an alley with another man. Judging from their stances and movements, the conversation was not a pleasant one. Joey certainly looked the type to be capable with a sword. He stood the right height, and held himself with taut aggressiveness. Natasha saw the quick, discreet movement of items being exchanged. She shook her head.<p>

"Stark, it is ironic that New York's "Unsung Hero," here she made air quotes, despite the fact that Tony couldn't see them, "might be a drug dealer?" There was a pause before Tony answered.

"Who are you looking at right now? Oh wait—Joey Watson. Yeah, he's a real winner."

"Has he been caught yet?"

"Let me see…yes. He was arrested for dealing drugs about half a year ago." Said Tony. "Oh, about that, we can cross him off the list. Apparently he was released from prison on parole…yesterday." Tony sounded disappointed. Natasha sighed and put the car in drive. There was no way he was the Swordsman now.

"And he is already back in business," Bruce commented dryly, "how industrious of him."

* * *

><p>The shouts at the poolside were deafening. The acoustics of the room only made them echo worse. Spectators crowded the bleachers, coaches yelled from the sidelines. Percy stood in the bullpen next to one of his swimmers. The other coach was off prepping another competitor. The swimmer, a young girl, shifted nervously in her seat as she waited for her heat to be called.<p>

"Now, remember to keep your toes pointed when you dive, and your knees tight in your turnover. Don't forget your stroke count—what is it again?" The girl nodded along with his advice.

"Four strokes from the flags to the wall." She said, foot tapping nervously.

"Right—hey, focus. You can do this."

"That big girl is good. I watched her in the 100 meter fly." Percy glanced down the row of plastic chairs to see the girl in question. He remembered her; she was good.

"Don't think about that. She might be good at the butterfly, but your backstroke is excellent, you'll make up for it." The current race ended, and the girl moved closer to the starting blocks.

"Confidence, kay?" His swimmer took a deep breath and nodded. He gave her a reassuring clap on the shoulder and said he would cheer for her from the poolside. Her heat was called and she stepped away.

"Thanks, Coach." She said and Percy smiled. He glanced down at his clipboard to look ahead to the next race.

"You're good with the kids—better than I am." Percy turned to see the other coach of the team standing next to him.

"I've had a lot of practice." Percy said, chuckling. The coach sent him a questioning look. "I was a counselor at a summer camp for a few years."

The coach puffed out his cheeks and whistled. "I could never handle that."

"Well, my life was never boring, that's for sure." He said, smiling his little inside joke. The starting gun went off, and Percy hurried away, yelling encouragements as he did.

* * *

><p>The air in the gym reeked of sweat and the sharp tang if metal. It was pleasantly noisy, music pumped through speakers in the corners, and high clangs came from the colliding weight bars. In the corner was a worn down boxing ring. Two opponents were currently exchanging blows, dancing back and forth on their toes. Steve watched as the black-haired boy struck with lightening speed, and won his fourth match in a row. A small crowd cheered appreciatively. The boy grinned, and helped his defeated opponent stand.<p>

"Next?" He called. The crowd shifted; no one came forward. Steve shrugged to himself. He needed to get closer to his suspect anyway.

"I will." The boy turned to Steve, sizing him up as the Captain approached. Steve hopped into the ring, bouncing on the balls of his feet a few times.

The boy held out his hand. "Cory." Steve shook it.

"Steve."

They both readied themselves. Steve had a slight advantage here—he knew what Cory was capable. To Cory, Steve was a mystery. Steve swung first, testing the waters. His blow was blocked expertly, and the boy retaliated.

He was very good; Steve had to give him that. Good, but not as good as the super-soldier. When the fight ended, Steve's suspect congratulated him good-naturedly. Steve liked him.

"Dude, you're gonna have to teach me some of that footwork! I could hardly keep up."

Cory and Steve spent the next hour going over the fighting tactics SHEILD had taught him. The boy was a quick learned, and they talked easily. The possibility of Cory being the Swordsman was becoming more and more likely. Eventually, as all conversations tended to do recently, their words turned to the attack on Manhattan.

"Were you there?" The young man inquired. Steve shook his head.

"I was visiting family out of town. I heard about it from the news." Cory took a slow drink of water from a cup.

"I was—right in the thick of too. It was the most terrifying thing I've ever been through. I thought I was going to die." Steve listened intently. Cory took his silence as a cue to continue.  
>"I nearly did too. Someone saved me. He fought with a sword." Cory gauged Steve's reaction out of the corner of his eye. Internally, Steve was baffled. He had been so sure. All the evidence pointed to this boy and he fought well. It wouldn't be a far stretch to see him with a sword. Steve took a swig of water, not letting his face display his true thoughts.<p>

"Like the Swordsman?" He asked, feigning surprise, but felt actual shock when Cory shook his head.

"No, I saw the picture of the Swordsman and it wasn't him. The guy who saved me was blonde, with a buzz cut." He shifted uncomfortably. "But no one believes me." Steve frowned, thinking of the figure that had been seen at the end of the video. But that figure had been clearly feminine.

"So there was another person running around with a sword?" He asked.

"Believe what you want—but I wouldn't forget the face of the man who saved my life." The boy said defensively. "I know what I saw."

"I believe you."

* * *

><p>Percy stood outside of the pool house, leaning against the building wall. He had a voicemail from Annabeth, and it was too loud for him to hear inside. It was a beautiful day out. The sky was cloudless and a soft breeze blew his hair gently. Percy couldn't help but feel this odd sense of foreboding, though. He had been trying to shake it all day. Maybe it meant that his team would lose, despite the fact that they were in the lead.<p>

Percy pulled out his phone, habitually patting his pocket for Riptide as he did. He held the phone to ear and played the voicemail.

_Hey, Percy, I just wanted to let you know that I won't be able to make it to the meet today. I'm really sorry, I know you wanted me to meet your swimmers, but something came up. I don't know… some last minute conference. Apparently, I just have to be there, even though my project has nothing to with the meeting._ She sighed, sounding exasperated. _We're definitely still on for dinner tonight, though. I'm feeling pasta…how does that sound? _Annabeth paused, listening to someone speak in the background._ Sorry, I have to go. I'll see you later. Bye, Seaweed Brain. Love you._

The voicemail ended. Percy smiled, forgetting the sense of foreboding for the moment. Pasta sounded excellent.

* * *

><p>The Avengers reconvened at Stark Tower at around three in the afternoon. The day had been largely a bust. Steve was exhausted, Natasha was irritable, and Clint had already breezed through his portion of the suspect list—which pissed Natasha off further. Tony was in unbreakably high spirits.<p>

"Only four more to go!" He crowed. "We'll have this wrapped up in no time." Natasha glared at him, and Steve began nodding off on the couch.

"Who's left?" Bruce asked. Clint scooped up the remaining files. All but four had bright, red X's through them.

"Andrew Parther, Gregg Brown, Jared Bannen, and Percy Jackson." Clint listed.

Steve sat up suddenly. "Wait, Percy Jackson?"

Tony shot him an odd look. "Yeah, you know him?"

"We've met."

* * *

><p>Percy left the pool house in high spirits. He had spent the last half hour high-fiving his swimmers and talking to parents. His team had won—by a landslide. Percy walked happily through the campus, in his head he planned out his date with Annabeth. Maybe they would take a walk through Central Park before dinner. He exited the campus grounds and made his way down the street, his swim bag slung over his shoulder. There were still a few hours before he was supposed to meet Annabeth at her apartment. Percy toyed with the idea of surprising her with flowers, but rejected it. Knowing Annabeth, she would scold him for unnecessarily spending money on her.<p>

Percy slowed his walk as the foreboding feeling crept back, stronger than before. His hand itched toward to pull out Riptide, but he resisted. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. After years of being in constant danger, Percy knew that feeling. He was being watched.

* * *

><p>Steve watched as Percy walked down the street. The team had decided who would track down which suspect randomly, but Steve had requested Percy. Having already met him, it would be easier to hold a conversation, and hopefully, get him to come back to the tower for some questions. The boy seemed to be in high spirits—completely different than the thoughtful attitude he had carried when Steve had met first met him.<p>

Some instinct—honed by his time as a soldier—told Steve to hide and he followed it instinctively. The Captain ducked into an alley, just in time to avoid Percy's roving gaze. He knew he was being watched.

Steve, throwing caution and subtlety to the wind, decided a more direct approach was needed. He quickly caught up to the boy and fell in step with him.

"Hey, Percy." Steve winced internally at the weak opening. Percy didn't show any surprise at Steve's sudden arrival.

"Steve, how are you?" Percy said conversationally, but his tone was guarded.

"I'm doing well, thanks. It's a nice coincidence—seeing you here."

Percy eyed him suspiciously, halting his walk to turn to Steve. "Is it really a coincidence?" He asked. Steve took a moment to compose himself, noting the way Percy naturally adopted a defensive stance and shifted his bag to a more secure position on his back. The boy's eyes were sizing him up, much like the way they did upon their first meeting.

"No, you're right. It isn't a coincidence. Percy, where were you the day New York was attacked?" Steve said bluntly, wanting to get this over with.

"I was at a summer camp. I'm a counselor there." He took a small preparatory step back. Steve noticed and shifted subtly so that he couldn't run forward down the street. "Why?"

Steve sighed. "I'm going to have to ask you to come with me to answer a few questions." Steve felt bad. He genuinely liked Percy, and thought the boy didn't deserve to be dragged into SHIELD's affairs. Orders were orders, though. And this mystery needed solved. Percy wrinkled his nose, pretending to think about it.

"Let me see…how about no." He said, and before Steve could blink, he was peeling off into an alley. Steve unleashed a slew of profanities Stark would be proud of and gave chase.

* * *

><p>Percy had known what was about to happen the moment he saw Steve. He should have realized this type of confrontation was inevitable. Camp had gotten another tip from the Hermes camper with SHEILD that the agency was hot on his tail. It had only been a matter of time.<p>

And now that time was up. As Percy saw it, he had two options. He could go with Steve peacefully and try and lie his way out of his predicament, which would definitely _not _work. Let's face reality, Percy was a bad liar. Or he could get the heck outta Dodge. Percy chose the latter option. Acting on a small amount of surprise, and the Captain's assumption that he would cooperate, Percy turned and sprinted down the nearest alley. Behind him he could here Steve's curses. Percy was fast, but Steve had the super-soldier working for him, and he was quickly gaining ground. The only reason that the Captain had not caught him yet, was Percy's familiarity with modern New York. Ducking and weaving through pedestrians, taking sharp corners, and slipping through traffic with ease, Percy led Steve on a convoluted route that would eventually lead to the docks. Percy actually had a plan for once.

* * *

><p>Percy was fast. Steve was having trouble keeping up with the native New Yorker as he navigated the city effortlessly. Steve wondered where the boy was leading him. It was obvious he had a location in mind. His turns were purposeful and he never showed any hesitation. Percy had a plan. They looped through the Upper East Side, and then the financial district, and finally slowed at the docks, in the shadow of an overpass. When they stopped running, Steve had cornered Percy at the end of an old wooden dock. The place smelled like fish and brine. Seagulls swooped low over the river, their calls filling the air. Steve panted.<p>

"Was that all necessary?" He wheezed, hands on his knees. Percy looked equally winded, but stayed tense nonetheless. Steve straightened, and as he did so, Percy took a step back towards the end of the dock and the water. He was empty handed, having ditched his bag several blocks ago.

"Woah, hey, we aren't _that_ desperate, are we? That water is disgusting. It'll give you a third eye or something." Steve said, raising his hands in a placating manner. Percy remained silent. His gaze flicked from Steve to the water and back to Steve. The decision was visible in Percy's eyes. A small smile graced his lips.

'Wait, no!" Steve lunged forward, but Percy had already dived off of the dock and disappeared into the water. Peering into the murky depths of the river, Steve tried to discern Percy's figure, but couldn't find him. He watched the surface of the water carefully for the next few minutes, but Percy never reappeared. Taking a deep breath and rubbing his eyes tiredly, Steve pulled out his phone and dialed Tony's number. The man picked up on the second ring.

"Hey Capsicle, did you get him?" Steve quickly filled him in on the situation.

"He is still out there somewhere. I think it was his plan from the beginning to escape in the water." Steve said as he walked to retrieve the bag Percy had dumped.

"We can discuss it later. Get your ass back here, Cap. Thor finally showed up."

**So there is Chapter 5! We don't here from as many people in this chapter but I really wanted to focus on the Avenger's search. But I have to say, writing Clarisse was pretty fun, I hope I did her justice. And I think you guys can guess who the Met thieves are. ;) Anyway, I have a pretty detailed outline of the next four chapters written out, so get excited. :D As usual, I can't even express how much your reviews mean to me. Your support is amazing. Only four chapters and over 100 reviews are incredible, I never thought this story would pick up so quickly. Thank You and keep it up!**


	6. Chapter 6

Percy walked out of the surf and onto the beach at Camp Half-Blood. He flopped tiredly to the ground. Not that he was actually physically tired; it was more of a frustrated, angry, I-am-100-percent-done-with-this-shit, emotionally kind of tired. The sand was warm underneath him. Little waves tugged at his feet; and it felt nice to just lay there on the sand and let a warm sense of security wash over him. He was safe.

This wasn't the kind of danger he was used to. Percy highly doubted that the Avengers actually wanted to kill him—most of his enemies in the past did—and they didn't wish to rule (or destroy, you pick) the world. They were hardly even his adversaries. Like Percy, they strived to protect innocents, defeat the bad guys, save the world—he could go on. But they did pose a serious threat to the stability in his life that Percy had fought so desperately for. These past couple years had been good for Percy. He was in college, he had a job, and granted, it hadn't always been smooth sailing, but his life was looking up. He didn't want this to change.

Percy was an old veteran by now. People don't walk away from these incidents unscathed, he knew. Whatever life he had before was irretrievable. Now, it was only a matter of how he came out of it. Eventually, the realization that he needed to warn his parents and Annabeth filtered down through the chaotic storm of his thoughts. He opened his eyes. Late afternoon sunshine slanted across the beach, turning the waves to fire and giving the sand he was laying on a warm glow. The light hit the Athena Parthenos from behind, wreathing the statue in gold. It sent a pang of some deep unidentifiable emotion through Percy when he thought of all that had been sacrificed to get that statue to where it was now.

Percy stood, lifting water from the waves to form a fine mist. What had once been a difficult task was now mindlessly easy. Percy manipulated the water so that the rays of light hit it just right, and soon had a perfect rainbow. He reached down to his bag to retrieve a drachma, and then froze. He had left his bag…in some random alley…in Manhattan. He would consider himself lucky if it was in the hands of some stranger, but no, he had little doubt that Steve had retrieved it. He mentally catalogued what had been in that bag. There was nothing too incriminating: shoes, a towel, empty candy bar wrappers, his clipboard and swimmer lineup, his wallet was in his pocket, one drachma. He face-palmed.

"Jackson, you're an idiot." He said aloud. Sighing, he let the water fall and trudged up the beach towards camp. If he wanted to make those IM's he would have to get some drachmas from his cabin.

The camp was largely dark and silent, but light and laughter poured out of the mess hall. He had arrived during dinner. He went straight to his cabin, not wanting to concern the camp with the recent events just yet. Knowing Chiron, this news would probably result in another lockdown, a decision that would not go over well. He slipped quickly past the dark buildings, avoiding the lit Athena cabin altogether. There was nearly always an Athena kid skipping dinner to work on some project and he wanted to avoid detection. Percy's pace slowed unconsciously as he neared cabin number 3. He was really dreading these imminent conversations.

* * *

><p>Thor's presence was large and prominent and Steve recognized it immediately as he walked into the room where the Avengers were gathered. Percy's bag was in his hand.<p>

"Ah, Steve, how good it is to see you again!" Thor boomed; Tony started violently.

"What did I miss?" Steve asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Director Fury was standing broodingly in the corner of the room.

"I was shown the video." Thor said, his hand was resting casually on his ever-present hammer.

"And…?"

"He can't help us." Natasha stated shortly. Steve deflated a little.

"The man you are looking for is not an Asgardian—that much I can say. I have suspicions, but they are small and distant." Thor said apologetically.

"Well, I have something that might help." The Captain said, hefting Percy's bag onto the table. The team leaned in unconsciously.

"Is that the kid's?" Clint asked, and Steve nodded.

Tony rubbed his hands together craftily. "Going through other people's stuff—my favorite!"

"How did he get away?" Bruce asked.

"He jumped into the Hudson River."

Tony unceremoniously unzipped the bag and dumped the contents onto the table.

"Stark!" Natasha barked disapprovingly. The billionaire looked unapologetic.

"So what is the situation with Loki?" Clint asked Thor.

"Father is very disappointed in him. He was reprimanded most severely."

"Reprimanded? Just reprimanded!?"

"Well, not _just _reprimanded—"

Tony made a face, holding up a handful of empty wrappers. "Jesus, how many candy bars does this kid go through?"

"He jumped into the Hudson? That water is disgusting!" Bruce looked repulsed.

"That's what I said! He didn't listen—"

"His wallet was probably in his pocket, Tony, don't look so disappointed."

"Wallets tell you a lot about a person." Tony said.

Clint cut in dryly. "So does the internet—"

"Enough!" Fury yelled suddenly, making the roomful of people jump suddenly. The side conversations died. "Can we please focus on the task at hand?" The director sounded exasperated.

"Right," Steve stepped up, taking charge of the situation. "Tony, is there anything useful in the bag?"

Tony clapped his hands together briskly. "Everything is definitely in the normal range here, except for this."

He held up a fat, gold coin for the room to see. Steve took it and inspected the coin closer. It was thick and not perfectly round. An unrecognizable face was imprinted on one side, on the other—the Empire State building. The coin was quickly passed around the room, each person as stumped as the last.

"That is the Empire State building, right?" Natasha said, holding the coin up to her eyes for a better look. "Didn't the stamp on our mystery letter depict the State building too?"

"How coincidental." Bruce deadpanned.

"There is no such thing as coincidences." Clint said as Natasha passed the coin to Thor. Steve watched the god of thunder closely as Thor looked it over. A look of grim recognition flashed through his eyes. Steve was not the only one to see it.

"You know what it is." Natasha exclaimed.

"I have suspicions."

"Suspicions, suspicions, suspicions…that's all you have!" Tony said accusingly. Steve could see the man's frustration. He had worked tirelessly to solve this mystery and was answered with dead-end after dead-end. "This could be vitally important, we need to know."

Thor's back stiffened under the angry words. "You—"

"Thor." Fury interrupted warningly. Steve supposed he should have expected this. Coulson's death had brought the team together, but it would take more time before their personalities allowed them to get along easily. Thor began to speak again, this time, his tone was calmer.

"It is a drachma, the currency used by the Ancient Greek people. Why a nineteen year old American boy is carrying it, I know not." He said coldly, setting the coin down on the table with a solid clink. Confusion played across the faces of the room's inhabitants.

"It could be a family heirloom." Bruce suggested thoughtfully. They were interrupted from further conversation by JARVIS, who informed Tony that Pepper wished to see him immediately.

"I wonder what this is about." Tony mused on the way to the door.

"You have a dinner party tonight." Natasha said, once again inspecting the drachma.

"I do!? Wait… how do you know that?" Tony said, his tone held astonishment.

"It's my job to know things."

* * *

><p>If Rachel hadn't been so angry, she would have been uncomfortable with the fact that her father was standing in her living room. He was, as always, dressed in an immaculately crisp suit. His shoes shone and a gold watch encircled his wrist. He would glance down at it often, as if he had somewhere more important to be. <em>Probably another meeting.<em> Rachel had thought venomously. He was the polar opposite of Rachel, who was dressed in paint dappled sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt. Her wild hair was somewhat tamed in a messy bun with a paintbrush stuck through it.

"I am _not _going!" She exclaimed. Her father clenched his jaw.

"I will not tell you again, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, you will attend the dinner tonight, and you _will_ dress appropriately for the situation."

_Ooh, you used my full name, scary._ Rachel commented snidely in her head. To her father, she once again voiced her refusal.

"I want nothing to do with your company."

Her father swept past her comment. "Your mother and I will pick you up here at seven. Be ready." He cast one last disdainful look around the room and then walked out of the door, ignoring his daughter's outraged spluttering and leaving behind the scent of his expensive cologne lingering in the air.

Rachel stood there, blinking furiously for a moment. Then, in a fierce burst up pent up frustration and anger, she ripped the paintbrush out of her hair and threw it like a throwing knife across her apartment. It sank into a blank canvas and stuck there, quivering. She huffed loudly and blew an errant lock of fiery hair out of her face. Turning on her heel, she marched off to her room to get changed, leaving the paintbrush in the canvas.

She would go, but she wouldn't be happy about it.

* * *

><p>Tony tugged fruitlessly at his tie, trying to loosen it, but it was no use. Pepper had knotted it tighter than a noose. Spotting his actions, Pepper Potts slapped his hand down, giving him a warning look.<p>

"I can't breathe." The billionaire said fussily. "You don't understand my struggle."

Pepper rolled her eyes at his antics. She smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle in her dress and frowned at the traffic outside of the limousine window.

"Tony, it took you fifteen minutes to get ready and me, an hour and a half. _You _don't understand _my _struggle." She said.

Tony thought about it for a moment. "Touché."

Several, minutes later, the Limousine pulled into the drive of one of New York's ritzier hotels. This dinner was technically a social event only—no business—hosted annually by one of the city's elite. Tony had attended every year, they had some great food. However, this year, all he wanted was to be back at the tower. The team was discussing how to track down Jackson and approach those close to him for information.

The passenger door of the limo opened and Tony stepped out, Pepper close behind him. The dinner was a smaller affair than usual this year, what with the recent devastation of New York keeping the media busy elsewhere. Only a few photographers were present, and Tony immediately flashed an award winning smile. Pulling Pepper closer, Tony walked through the rich hotel doors and they crossed the lobby to the banquet hall together. Pepper paused before they entered.

"Be nice, ok? Maybe we'll leave early."

* * *

><p>To put it lightly, the camp had not taken Percy's news well. In fact, he had a lovely bruise forming on his bicep where Clarisse had punched him, and he was being shunned. His conversations with his parents and Annabeth had gone slightly better. Sally and Paul had been understanding and somewhat resigned. Immediately switching into damage-control mode, Sally and Percy had a lengthy conversation about how the recent events would affect her and Paul, and what they could expect. There was a high chance that his parents could be meeting a SHIELD agent soon, but Percy wasn't too worried. After so many years of covering for him, Paul and Sally were excellent liars. His talk with Annabeth had been distinctly shorter. She had scolded him half-heartedly, and had then fallen into a pattern of short, vague answers in response to his comments. Percy could practically see the gears turning in her head, and knew she would be distracted for the rest of the night. Saying goodbye and receiving an absent nod, he disconnected the IM, leaving her muttering about plans.<p>

He was now sitting on the edge of the dock of the boating lake. The sun had finally set, and the night air was refreshingly cool. Bare feet swung softly through the water, sending little ripples across the lake. Crickets chirped softly in the grasses. Percy heard soft footsteps on the wooden slats of the dock, and turned to see Thalia walking towards him. The Hunters had arrived at camp earlier in the day. Thalia didn't look an inch different than she had over five years ago. Looking at her always made Percy feel like he was stepping into the past. Her hair was cut at the same sharp angles and her eyes were still lined with thick kohl. Her sense of style was untouched by time and she held herself with the same confidence. Yet she had changed. It was hardly noticeable, Percy could pick out the differences if he looked closely. Thalia was less aggressive now. She still made the Ares kids look like princesses, but she watched her words more; her decisions showed maturity. War had that effect on people. It left nothing untouched; it changed everyone.

But, despite that, Thalia was still Thalia and she greeted Percy with an insult and a slap upside the head.

"Some things never change, do they, Thals." Percy said, rubbing the back of his head ruefully as Thalia sat down next to him, crossing her legs.

"Nope," She popped the "P". "Annabeth is still smarter than us, Grover still freaks out over nature, and you are still busy getting yourself in trouble." She said matter-of-factly. Percy raised an eyebrow.

"And you?"

Thalia pretended to think about it. "I'm still cooler than you."

Percy scoffed, as if to say, _you wish. _They sat in comfortable silence for a while more, watching the stars glitter in the reflection on the lake, before Thalia spoke again.

"You don't think this will all blow over, do you?" She said tentatively. Percy swirled the water with his toe, raising a tiny funnel, while he thought about his answer.

"I don't know, maybe, maybe not—let's talk about something else. It's Annabeth's job to keep track of the serious stuff. I'm just here for the fun."

Thalia rolled her eyes, something she did often whenever she talked to Percy. "Kelp Head. What do you want to talk about then?"

"What should I get Annabeth for our anniversary? I still have, like, two months, but if I don't start planning now, I'll forget." Thalia snorted and lay down on her back, gazing at the stars. She folded her hands underneath her head.

"Percy, that constitutes as relationship advice. You're asking the wrong person."

* * *

><p>Tony's mind was not on the party. It was a lovely party, true, but Tony was sick of faking smiles and he wanted to go back to the tower. Soft music was being played live by a duet of a cello and violin. The room was lavish and plush and had an air of elegance to it. The dinner guests milled around the room, sipping from champagne glasses and making small talk. There was a dance floor where couples swayed in time to the music. Tony twirled Pepper in little circles, enjoying her company wordlessly. The fact they could also be doing this back at the tower did not escape him.<p>

They broke apart when the host announced that dinner was ready. As the party was too large for one table, many smaller, round tables were placed attractively around the room. Each sat six. Tony and Pepper found a secluded table in the corner which had only one other inhabitant.

"Do you mind if we sit here?" Pepper asked politely. The girl looked up from the napkin she was doodling on.

"I guess- if you want." She said indifferently. Her green eyes flicked back down to her napkin. The girl was pale and smothered in light freckles. Fire red hair was pulled back into an elegant bun, though it looked like her curls were doing their damndest to escape.

"Well, I'm Tony Stark, and my lovely companion is Pepper Potts—" He shot Pepper a wink"—and you are?"

The girl finally settled her attention on Tony. "Oh, I know who you are. I must say, I despised you for quite some time." She said matter-of-factly. "But I really approve of the new direction you have been taking your company—much more eco-friendly." Tony blinked owlishly, unsure of whether he should be offended or flattered. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Pepper stifling a laugh.

"Thank you?"

"I'm Rachel Elizabeth Dare, if you must know." Tony followed the flick of her eyes and saw Mr. Dare at a table across the room, chatting up a wealthy Irish businessman. "Please inform the police that I'm being held here against my will."

Tony decided he liked her.

"So, Rachel, are you in college?" Pepper inquired as they were served a creamy soup appetizer.

Rachel nodded. "Yeah, I'm an art major. My father is not too happy about that one." She swallowed a large spoonful of soup and added thoughtfully, "Maybe that's why I enjoy it so much."

Unsure of how to respond to that particular statement, Tony and Pepper simply ate more soup. It wasn't until they were well into the main course and Pepper had excused herself to use the restroom that Rachel spoke again.

"So, Stark, how is it going with the Avengers?"

Tony looked up from his steak. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, are you keeping busy?"

"Not really," Tony said slowly, lying through his teeth. He couldn't exactly tell some random teenager the inner workings of SHEILD. "Things have slowed down after the battle. I'm just trying to rebuild my tower."

Rachel laughed. "That is such bullshit—do you mind if I use language, you look like you wouldn't—but seriously. SHEILD has some major damage control going on right now, what with the city and their global reputation and the Swordsman. They would be stupid to not have their best assets fully employed in solving the problems. Don't tell me that the brightest technical genius in his field, aka you, doesn't have some idea of who that Swordsman is. So, spill." She managed to get all of this out in one breath and fixed him with a scrutinizing glare.

To say Stark was unnerved was an understatement. However, he was spared from responding by Pepper, who returned saying that she had just received a call and that they were needed elsewhere. The two quickly said their goodbyes to the host and made a hasty retreat. Tony glanced back at Rachel, who gave them a cheeky wave farewell.

He grimaced. "You have impeccable timing, Pepper. Did you know?" He said as they stepped out of the lobby and onto the sidewalk.

"I did, actually."

* * *

><p><em>The next morning<em>

_The English classroom was a drab, gray color. At the chalkboard, the teacher droned on about verb conjugates, ignoring the fact that most of his pupils were asleep. The sky was dark and cloudy outside. Thick storm clouds gave the heavens a low ceiling and a heavy wind kept blowing a branch from the cherry tree outside the building against the window. It hit the glass with sharp, insistent tapping sounds and Nancy knew it was distracting the boy in front of her. For some reason Nancy really hated the boy. She hated his shaggy troll hair that never looked combed, she hated how stupid he was, and most of all, she hated his annoying habit of sticking up for the scrawny kids. God, she hated him. _

_With soft tearing noises, Nancy ripped up the messy English notes she had nicked from the kid next to her. Crumpling the pieces into little balls, she took careful aim, and flicked one. Nancy watched with satisfaction as it hit the boy squarely in the back of his head. He ignored her. She repeated the process with another ball of paper. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his pencil tightly. She loved how easily she could get a rise out of him. Several minutes later, wads of paper littered the floor around their desks and the boy's pencil looked on the verge of snapping. Nancy deliberately crumpled the next paper loudly. She flicked the wad and it struck the boy's ear. Apparently, this was the last straw. The pencil snapped and Percy Jackson whipped around to glare at her._

"_What do you want?!" He demanded loudly. The teacher stopped his lecture._

"_Percy Jackson, turn around now!" _

_Percy narrowed his eyes—the only thing about him she considered remotely attractive—at her and Nancy shot him a triumphant look. He slowly turned to face the front of the class again and Nancy began to crumple another piece of paper. This was too easy._

Nancy awoke in the hospital bed with a start. The memory of Percy Jackson's eyes lingered in her head. She could see them as clearly now as she could the day she met him, even though it had been seven years since she had seen them. No, she realized, that wasn't right. She had seen them just less than two weeks ago.

* * *

><p>Percy woke to the sound of someone pounding incessantly on his cabin door. Cursing under his breath, he stumbled out of bed, tripped on the blankets twisted around his legs, and fell to the floor with a thud. The knocking continued. He managed to stand and kicked the blankets venomously away from him. The knocking continued. Percy lunged for the door, pulled it open and was greeted with a fist coming at his face, which he narrowly dodged. Leo was standing in his doorway, fist poised for another knock.<p>

"Hey there, sunshine—"

Percy shut the door. There was a slight pause before Leo started knocking again. This time, when Percy opened the door, he swung out a hand and cuffed the Leo on the side of the head, effectively sending him sprawling.

"Yikes, someone is grouchy." Leo dusted himself off.

"Dude, what the hell do you want?" Going to college had him in the habit of using mortal swears again. "It's early."

Leo wiggled his eyebrows at him, and Percy realized belatedly that he was still shirtless from sleep. Wordlessly, Percy turned and walked back into his cabin.

Leo followed. "Chiron wants to see us—something about a meeting on Olympus."

Percy groaned as he rummaged through his drawers for a clean shirt. "I am so going to get yelled at by Athena aren't I?" Leo flopped onto one of the beds.

"Nah, I don't think Athena would yell. She's more the type to give you dirty looks and drop little hints that they should just vaporize you." Percy snorted and pulled out a gray T-shirt Annabeth had gotten for a birthday present one year. It had a picture of the St. Louis Arch on it. Percy had always enjoyed the irony.

He shrugged the shirt over his head. "Ready?"

* * *

><p>"Clint, do you have the address?" Natasha yelled from the other room. Clint paused in tying his laces.<p>

"Yes! For the fifth time, yes, I have the address." Clint yelled back.

"Well, you always forget it." The reply came. Clint finished with his laces and stood furiously.

"That was once!"

"People, it is 8:30 in the morning and too early to be yelling in my tower." Tony hollered, louder than either of them. Natasha came into the room, ready to leave. They walked through the kitchen on their way out, and Clint snagged an apple for the road.

"We're going to go talk to Jackson's parents." Natasha told Steve and Bruce, who were sitting at the table, eating breakfast. Steve looked like he had already been to the gym and back. Bruce looked like death warmed over.

"You two argue like an old married couple." The doctor told them grumpily. Clint made a face.

"Oh, speaking of arguing," Natasha said, "I'm driving."

"What's that got to do with arguing?" Steve interjected.

"Absolutely not, there is no way that I'm letting you drive." Clint said.

"Deal with it."

"No."

"Never mind." Steve said to no one in particular.

"YES" Clint and Natasha walked out of the room angrily.

"NO."

Natasha drove.

* * *

><p>Percy and Blackjack soared of the New York City skyline towards Olympus. The other campers who had fought in Manhattan were taking a car to the Empire State Building. Percy was flying; he couldn't take the risk of being found by SHEILD.<p>

_So, Boss—_

"Don't call me boss."

_Okay, Boss, whatever you say—there's this new donut shop—_

"No."

_It just opened up and I heard that it was real good. _

"Blackjack, this really isn't the right time for donuts."

_And I was thinking that we could swing by after this meeting—_

"Did you hear what I just said?"

_Yeah, Boss, you said that NOW wasn't the time for donuts, which means LAAATER is definitely the time for donuts._

"Don't call me Boss." Percy said half-heartedly.

_I'll show you where it is after this meeting._ The Pegasus said, smelling victory. Percy rolled his eyes.

Ten minutes later Percy was entering the Olympian throne room for the second time of the week. The throne room was magnificent. Towering pillars framed the space, rising imperiously to the great, domed roof. Smooth golden beams split off from the pillars near the top, like the branches of a tree. The beams crossed each other, forming a layered, shining lattice high above Percy's head. Sunlight poured in through glass portions of the dome, reflecting brilliantly off the web of beams and giving the hall a fiery, golden glow. The light simultaneously illuminated the room, and cast deep, inky shadows underneath the pillars, resulting in a quite dramatic effect. Great, bronze braziers were embedded in the marble floor; small flames flickered in their bellies. The other nine were already there. Percy went to stand by Annabeth and slipped his hand into hers. Athena frowned. Percy caught his father's eye and the god sent him a reassuring smile.

"Today, we need to talk about the recent events and how—" Zeus began, only to be interrupted by Athena.

"Where is Nico?" She asked. Percy looked around and realized that Nico was indeed not in the throne room. Every eye turned to Hades.

"What?" The god of the underworld said defensively. "I can't keep track of that boy."

Artemis rolled her eyes.

"Dionysus?" Athena asked.

"Like I care."

After several minutes of debate and throwing insults, it was agreed that no one knew where Nico di Angelo was. Honestly, Percy wasn't surprised.

"We will just have to continue without him." Zeus decided finally, and the meeting began.

All in all, it was a lot like most of the other Olympian councils Percy had been present for (and he had seen a lot). The topic for discussion was their impending doom, this time due to exposure instead of some homicidal family member. The mode of conversation was arguing and, as usual, the problem was addressed hardly at all. The discussed subjects included, but not limited to were:

Artemis' social and (nonexistent) dating life,

How cool dolphins are,

The value of overdosing on cereal,

How much longer Dionysus would have to suffer at Camp,

An almost violent dispute regarding air and sea disasters,

Athena dropping hints of vaporizing Percy, (at which Leo caught the boy's eye and mouthed, _called it)_, and Annabeth begging her mother to just give it up already,

And the potential of the Yankees baseball team for the coming season (Percy was excited).

When late morning rolled around, the council decided to call it quits and, unsurprisingly, voted to just follow whatever plan Athena had thought out—she could fill them in as they went. With the meeting officially adjourned, and the various participants slowly dispersing, Percy quickly pulled Annabeth toward the exit.

"Let's get back to camp." He said, eyeing Apollo apprehensively. The god had been dropping hints for a while now that he felt a song coming on, and Percy did not want to be around to witness it.

"I need to run by the apartment and pack some of my things first." Annabeth said as they walked through the city of Olympus. Percy frowned.

"You don't have anything at Camp?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Unlike _some people_, I don't have my own cabin. I gave up my drawer to a new sister months ago." They slowed their pace as they neared the elevator.

"Can't you just get your stuff later?"

"Percy, its fine. I'll meet you at camp in an hour or so—hey, Piper!" She called to the daughter of Aphrodite, who was walking with Jason towards the elevator as well. "Are you going back to the apartment?"

Piper shook her head. "Jason and I are heading out to lunch."

Annabeth nodded and turned back to Percy. "Go back to camp with Blackjack, I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay, make it quick, I heard that we're having tacos for lunch." Percy grinned.

"It's not Tuesday though."

"Is that really your concern right now?"

"Well, it is only logical to have tacos on taco Tuesday and—"

"Hey! Are you coming?" Jason, who was holding the elevator door open, called. Annabeth shot him a snarky look.

"Goodbye." She said, and pecked Percy swiftly on the lips before darting off to join Piper and Jason in the elevator.

Percy watched the doors slide shut and then turned and whistled for Blackjack. The sound of heavily beating wings soon reached his ears as Blackjack landed next to him. The black Pegasus greeted him with a _Yo, Boss, donuts?_

"Donuts." Percy agreed heartily.

* * *

><p>Natasha climbed into the driver's seat and shut the door with a slam. "Well, that was a waste of time." She said as Clint slid into the passenger's seat next to her.<p>

"Did the conversation feel off to you?" He asked thoughtfully. "I got the sense that she was holding back."

Natasha put the car in drive. "I did too. I thought she was an excellent liar." Clint nodded tiredly in agreement. The past hour had not been very productive.

Sally Jackson had been extremely polite throughout the entire interview. Her apartment was small and homey and warm. Pictures of her son, Percy, hung on the walls and the living room was smothered in papers. Binders littered the floor by the couch and folders full of notes were spread out over the coffee table. Sally apologized for the mess, saying that she was in the final editing stages of a novel, and they talked in the kitchen over the best cookies Natasha had ever tasted. Who cares if they were the wrong color (blue? Who does that?), they were heavenly.

Natasha and Clint made trivial small talk with Sally in an attempt to be subtle before getting to the reason behind their visit. They had questioned her as closely as they dared and got absolutely nowhere. Sally had been adamant that Percy had been at a summer camp where he was a counselor on the day that Manhattan had been attacked, and was it in no way possible that he was the Swordsman. When asked if they could speak to Percy, she told them that he was out with friends, and she didn't know when he would be back. If Sally had been talking with any other person, there was no doubt that they would have believed her wholly, but Clint and Natasha were professionally trained to spot the signs of lying. And despite how convincing she was, there was a tension in the way she sat and a measured tone of her voice that clued the SHIELD agents in. Regardless of the agent's intuition, they still needed a somewhat legitimate reason to bring Sally back to Stark's tower for further questioning and she didn't give them one.

They left soon after it became apparent that Sally was not going to change her story. On to the next task.

Natasha maneuvered skillfully through New York traffic, heading to the apartment of Jackson's girlfriend. Some digging into Annabeth Chase's records by Tony had revealed an intriguing childhood. Successfully running away from home at the age of seven is not common, after all. Her past, coupled with the fact that she shared an apartment with Tristan McLean's daughter, promised an interesting conversation at least. Natasha was almost looking forward to this. They parked in front of a nice looking apartment building. It was a tall, stately building, older and set farther back from the road than its neighboring establishments. Ivy clung to the brick walls and curved over the windowsills.

They tried to use the elevator, but discovered that it was out of commission.

"You have got to be kidding me." Clint deadpanned. Natasha turned to the stairs.

"Clint, I think we can handle a couple flights of steps." She said as she began to ascend to the second floor. Clint grumbled something unintelligible underneath his breath and followed her. They moved upwards, Clint growing grumpier by the floor, until they reached the fifth level. They quickly found the right door and Natasha knocked smartly. There were a few moments of pause before they could hear the sounds of someone approaching the door from the other side. The door opened slowly and a young woman was standing before them.

She was of average height, with an athletic build and a natural looking tan. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a curly ponytail and she wore comfortable looking clothes. The most startling aspect of her appearance was her eyes. They were a stormy grey color Natasha had never seen before. There seemed to be a great measure of intelligence behind the cloudy orbs and their gaze was slightly unnerving.

"Can I help you?" She said politely; her voice was reserved.

Natasha stepped forward slightly, and the girl's attention snapped to her. "Yes, would you be Annabeth Chase?" She asked. Annabeth nodded.

"I'm agent Romanoff, and this is my partner agent Barton from SHEILD. We were hoping to ask you a few questions." The two raised their badges.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes and her hand on the door twitched. She wanted to shut it. "Questions about what?" The blonde girl asked suspiciously.

"May we come in?"

Annabeth opened the door wider.

The inside of the tiny apartment was neat and tidy. A short hallway led to the main room, where a couch and a recliner were facing a small television. Deeper into the room sat a table littered with papers. Another doorway led to the kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink?" Annabeth asked.

"Water is fine." Clint said, carefully surveying the room.

"Same."

Annabeth nodded and left for the kitchen. In her absence, Clint and Natasha made a quick, habitual, sweep of the room. Approaching the table, Natasha could see piles of blueprints and papers with architectural designs and plans on them. Her gaze slid over the walls, taking in photos hung there. She saw Percy in several of them. Clint cleared his throat and Natasha glanced over at him. He was holding up a familiar, thick gold coin. The archer raised an eyebrow. It was odd that they would both have the same kind of ancient artifact just lying commonly around. Clint's words echoes in Natasha's head. _There is no such thing as coincidences._ He slipped the coin into his pocket just as Annabeth returned from the kitchen.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" She asked as they took their seats in the living room.

Clint leaned forward in his seat, elbows on knees. "We were wondering where your boyfriend, Percy Jackson, was the day that Manhattan was attacked."

She looked taken aback. "He was at a summer camp."

Clint nodded absently. This was the third time that they had heard that, which means that everyone had been told the official cover story, or Jackson really was at that camp and the Avengers were back at square one.

"Are you sure that is where he was?" Natasha questioned.

"I'm quite sure, I was with him." Annabeth set her drink down on the nearby coffee table. "Why do you ask?"

Natasha and Clint exchanged a glance. "We think that your boyfriend has in some way related to the Swordsman mystery." A look of panic flashed in Annabeth's eyes before she covered it with confusion.

"Excuse me? You think Percy did what?"

Natasha stood. "If you have the time, we would like you to come to the Stark Tower for a few more questions." Her voice left no room for argument. Annabeth did not respond right away, thinking things through. Natasha could almost see the gears turning in the girl's head. Finally she pursed her lips in a resigned manner.

"Let me just write a quick note to my roommate first."

Three minutes later, the two SHIELD agents, accompanied by Annabeth ,walked out of the apartment. The Avengers were one step closer.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that took a lot longer than I though it would. But, this was my longest chapter yet at an exhausting 6,200 words. <strong>

**OK, I'm going to preemptively answer some questions on the Thor situation. Thor tricky, which is part of the reason I waited so long to introduce him. It makes sense for him to know of the Greeks, but if he knows too much, the story is over right there. So here it is: Thor knows about the Greeks and the Asgardians don't get along with them very well. HOWEVER, the last time they came into contact with the Greeks, they were still in Greece. Thor doesn't know about Camp HB, or the recent wars, or even that the gods are in America. That's why he is suspicious, but not certain yet. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask. **

**As usual, THANK YOU for your support and keep it up!**


	7. Chapter 7

_Fifteen minutes into the Attack on Manhattan_

_Really, Jason was getting too old for this. _

_The son of Zeus ducked behind the cover of an overturned cafe table as a smoking chunk of concrete went sailing over his head and paused to catch his breath. It had been quite some time since he had really been caught up in an engagement of this scale and the stitch in his side proved that. He tapped the shin of his prosthetic leg impatiently, a habit he had picked up in the months following the Giant War, when he was still in partial denial about his amputated limb. He had to give Leo major props though; the fake leg worked beautifully. _

_There was a lull in the gunshots and Jason hazarded a peek over the edge of the table. The street lay in ruins. Smoke hung low in the air and every movement on the ground threw up little puffs of dust. Vague, shadowy figures darted through the haze, some motions frantic, the others smooth with deadly purpose. Jason cast a practiced eye over the scene as he plotted his next move. The battle had sucked him in a touch too close to the epicenter of the attack for his comfort. The demigods were fighting on the sidelines._

_Jason rose partially from his crouch, and with only a moment of hesitation, darted into the fray. In the dust and smoke, the world shifted in odd ways. Innocent objects became looming threats, and the dark writhing figures formed in the twisting smog kicked Jason's paranoia up a notch. A strangled yelp had the Roman turning on his heel and rushing to the sound. A breath of wind pushed back the smoke like a curtain, and Jason could, if only briefly, see where he was going. The author of the shout was being backed up to a wall by a Chitauri warrior. And as Jason ran, the thought "Why is Percy fighting with a chair?" whipped through his mind. The person was indeed fending the alien off with what appeared to be the chair that went with the table Jason had been crouching behind only a few moments previous. He was holding it by the back, legs out, as if he were a lion tamer at the circus. But as he shifted, Jason could clearly see that the man was not actually Percy; he just bore a striking resemblance to him. _

_Not-actually-Percy stumbled back a few steps as the alien lashed out and wrenched the chair from his grasp. He gained his footing and Jason absently noted that the Percy impersonator actually had a good defensive stance. The demigod would bet he was a boxer. The alien drew back its arm and not-actually-Percy prepared to meet the blow. A motion that was not really necessary because Jason had finally reached him. As fast as lightning (pun intended), Jason intercepted the strike with the flat of his blade, and used the alien's own momentum to send it tumbling to the fractured pavement. A few well placed slashes later and the alien was no longer a threat._

_Jason stepped back and glanced at not-actually-Percy. The man was pale and wide-eyed under a fine layer of dust._

"_Are you hurt?" Jason asked him, habitually scanning the street for further threats. Not-actually-Percy shook his head._

"_Is that really a sword you're fighting with?" The man questioned, his hand was pointed at Jason's golden blade. Jason chewed his lip thoughtfully._

"_No." He said slowly and crossed his fingers behind his back that the man would just let it go._

"_Dude, yes it is."_

"_It's not." _

"_I can see the sword right there."_

_Jason called forth his inner Thalia and snapped his fingers in the guy's face, claiming the sword was a chair leg as he did so. Not-actually-Percy blinked and Jason felt his hopes rise._

"_Ya know, if you're trying to Jedi-mind-trick me, you're supposed to wave your hand, not snap your fingers." The "dumbass" at the end of his sentence was implied. _

_Jason winced. Damn it. _

_Suddenly, Thor landed heavily on the street, sending shudders through the ground, followed by several more aliens. His entrance drew the attention of every living thing in the area. Jason leapt at the opportunity._

"_Oh, would you look at that, the professionals are here." He grabbed not-actually-Percy's bicep and wheeled him in the opposite direction. "Time to go." _

_Not-actually-Percy—Jason needed to learn his real name—didn't argue._

* * *

><p>Present day<p>

The dim lighting would probably be a bother to anyone else, but Nico's eyes were tuned perfectly for the dark. Wall-mounted torches flickered erratically, throwing sharp shadows around the room. The son of Hades walked slowly through the gloom, every step measured, as if he had all the time left in the world. Nico had defeated his ADHD years ago.

The air was thick with the smell of dust and old paper. Row after row of thick mahogany shelves formed a labyrinth of shadow and wood. Silence, disturbed only by Nico's soft footsteps, hung like a thick blanket over the bookshelves.

Nico stopped in front of one of the bookcases. He double checked the brass number tacked to the end of the shelf with the number scrawled on a piece of paper in his own messy hand. Nodding to himself, he stepped closer to the books. The books were bound in heavy red leather and emblazoned with gold lettering that was mercifully in Greek.

He pulled out a heavy tome with a promising title, and wrinkled his nose at the large cloud of dislodged dust that accompanied it. He had never been one for libraries, and couldn't help but think that this should be Annabeth right now. Nico flipped the book open and stared at the first page dejectedly._ Gods forbid the author actually include an index._ He thought._ Styx, this is going to take forever_. _Annabeth would be all over this_. The teenager shifted uncomfortably. _Maybe I should have told someone where I was going. _Nico shut the book with an irritated snap and returned it to its place. Useless. He eyed the endless rows of books in a new, highly unappreciative light. _Screw telling someone where I was going—I should have brought a whole task force._

The son of Hades ran a light finger over the books as he moved through aisles. He eyed the books critically as he went.

Annabeth had taken him to a library in New York once. It had been a few weeks after the Battle of Manhattan, before Percy disappeared and the entire world basically went to shit for the next couple of months. The New York library had been vastly different than this one. It had been full of light and movement and the comforting hum of hushed conversations and the rhythmic clacking of someone typing a term paper. Nico had trailed sullenly after Annabeth as she enthusiastically perused the books, tagging along only because Percy was at some school-thing (he had explained, but Nico hadn't cared to listen) and Annabeth had bribed him with McDonald's after they finished her "errands". The library had not been mentioned. Nico had not been happy.

Pulling himself out of the lighter memory, Nico glanced down at the crumpled paper in his hand and considered which of the dozen other possible locations where his target manuscript could be hiding to search through next.

Gods, he hated libraries.

* * *

><p>The custodian of the Metropolitan Museum of Art briefly considered the possibility that he was hallucinating. Had he accidentally inhaled too much of the fumes from the cleaning products? Was he finally losing it?<p>

The custodian closed his eyes and counted to ten. The wood of the mop handle dug into his clenched palms, grounding him to reality. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Nope, he wasn't hallucinating.

What the Hell? The staff had filed a police report; they had searched the museum from top to bottom. Even the feds had shown up. The jar had definitely still been missing ten minutes ago when the custodian left the room to retrieve to retrieve the wood polish he had forgotten.

And it was definitely now sitting back in its display, as if nothing had happened.

The man pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off the coming headache. Maybe it was time to retire.

* * *

><p><strong>I can explain. I really can. But I'm sure none of you want to hear my extensive list of excuses for why I haven't updated in a month, and why this chapter is so short(and obviously filler). Sorry. I'll just mention Volleyball, college applications, a fifteen page essay worth half my grade and the ever awful physics, and leave it that. Now, moving on. My Volleyball season has ended(I'm seriously depressed) so I <strong>_**should**_** be able to update quicker than this one took. But patience is a virtue, right?**

**As usual, let me know watcha think, because it seriously makes my day!**

**p.s. Can I just say that I actually got accepted into my dream school? Can I just say that? Oh God I'm so excited. Shit. College is a real thing. Holy Crap. *cue internal partying***


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